I Am You, But I Don't Choose To Be You.

I am you, but I don’t choose to be you.

I will always look like you, but I don’t choose to think like you.

I will always be attached to you, but I will never approve of you.

I will always love you, but I could never unconditionally love you.

I won’t end up like you, I won’t allow myself to.

You will always be my home, but you will never be homey.

I used to think you were my hero.

I used to think you walked on water.

You’re as indelicate as cooing birds at 5 in the morning.

I don’t understand what went wrong, I don’t know why you’re continuously glassy.

You were once as vivid and vibrant as the sun setting above the chilly winds surrounding Lake Michigan.

But the sun fades out, slowly and slowly, until one day it will burn out.

Just like you did.

But I can’t tell you that.

I can’t tell you how I feel inside.

I can’t tell you how the hurricane inside me is ready to destroy because you think I’m doing so well.

I can only do as well as you allow me to.

You’re not allowing me to be happy anymore but you can’t realize it because you don’t know the storm inside like you used to.

I sit here in disgrace, looking at you, wondering what I’d do if I ever ended up to be you.

I sit and look at myself in the mirror, repeating “hope is ahead” over and over, so you’ll finally approve of who I really am.

Of who I want to be.

But you’ll never know, because I refuse to let you in again.