I don’t want to be
your entire world, no.
I would be happy
just to be your morning coffee,
your hanging car keys,
but if lost throws off
your entire day.
I tried to escape her. I didn’t like her. I never wanted to have anything to do with her.
But after some time, I realized that when I looked in the mirror.. she was staring right back at me.
It’s the scariest thing to realize that you’ve become every characteristic you’ve despised of others. A few years ago, I didn’t realize that I was completely fine with who I was. I look back and I think, wow. I really didn’t love myself enough. I couldn’t realize that the person I was, was honestly just enough for anyone who deserved me. The one who didn’t go out as much as others did. She stayed home. All she needed was people to talk to. People to accompany her mind. Going out was a luxury, something that took weeks to plan and was well anticipated for. She never needed a drink to laugh. She laughed at everything. She was simple. She was different. She didn’t need to be with her friends all the time, she was happy alone. She wrote. She sang her lungs out in her room, making sure the music was on full blast so no one would hear her.
Along the way, the simplicity started to vanish. Curiosity invaded her thoughts. She wanted more. She thought she needed more. And when she got it… she lost herself.
When all you’ve known becomes nothing but a lie to you, unfortunately sometimes we allow it to change us. We let the regret, the pain, the nights we stayed up crying, we let it morph our character in the last direction we ever thought of going. Because it made us question whether or not the person we are is enough. I don’t want to say that I blame my past for making me into the person I am, but I sure hate the fact that I let it affect me like this. I had the choice to let it get to me, but at the same time, could you really have blamed me.
They say that it only takes one person to fuck someone up so bad, and to an extent it’s so true. What others close to you, do to you affects you more than you think. You tell yourself you’ll never be them, yet in the long run you find yourself doing every possible thing that they’ve done that you hated. Because you wonder why they were in love with doing every other thing that did not involve anything to do with being in love with you, and just being with you. You question why they love to go out so much. Why they love to drink. Why they felt the need to meet other people. Why staying at home on a friday night with you to cuddle and watch a movie, was never something that they wanted. You get curious.
And I honestly wish I never let curiosity bite me this hard. I want to escape her. I don’t like her. I don’t want to be her, anymore. She’s not me.