Who You Make Me

I have no idea who you are. You once told me that I knew you as well as your family. Do they not know you either? Sometimes I doubt that anybody knows you at all. Possibly, You have no idea who you are either. Maybe you hide who you are for fear of vulnerability, for fear of fear.
I have no idea how you feel. You hate me. You love me. I’m unknowing either way. You smile could light up any darkness that surrounds me. You give me what I need, what I love. Kissing you, being close to you, seeing you. I feel loved, I feel cared about, I feel beautiful, I feed freed. Or am I? Am I hated? Uncared for? Hideous? Trapped?

I am hated. If by no one else, by myself. I hate who I am, who you make me. I hate how I care, how I love. My hope, my faith: so strong they could move mountains. They move me… over the edge. I hate hope. I hate faith. I hate wishes, dreams. Dreams of a better time, a better life. Wishes for things unobtainable, things I don’t have, things I won’t have, things I can’t have. I hate, therefore, am hated.

I am not cared for. At least, not by you. If you cared, you wouldn’t hurt me like this… again. Actions speak louder than words ever will. In fact, your words scream. Screams of words that the whole world can hear, but you still seem deafened. For it takes something you don’t have to hear the drowning cries of my heart… care.

I am hideous. By the eyes of everyone… everyone but you. Maybe you do find me beautiful. It only hurts me more to know. You are the only one, but you can make me beautiful. My beauty only loves me when you do, and you are now gone. You took my beauty in your grasp. Now, I will be hideous forever.

I am trapped. In this darkness that surrounds me, in this pain that kills me. I can’t escape this feeling, this newfound knowledge that haunts my mind. You don’t need me, you don’t want me, you don’t want to have to care, to be there for me. I am trapped… trapped by this freedom.

You don’t know me. This is not me. This is who you make me.

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