It’s that I don’t see myself as myself. I don’t see myself as a single entity that I can control or will into action. I see myself as this magical, powerful, and terrifying siren. I will others, I manipulate logic, and I jump to conclusions instead of swim in the moment. I see myself as everything I ever was. I see myself as a young, blonde, blue-eyed, demanding, stubborn, and naive child. I see myself as something full of possibility. The potential energy within me can shake the earth and cause severe damage. But I can’t control it. I can’t release this energy. I can’t take my heart, my soul, or my brain and carry it in this world with an understanding of why I have it. I can’t use it.
I am a precious thread in a weaving tapestry of history, romance, and adventure. I’ve been told time and time again that I am loved and that I am special. I take these compliments and pass them off to the person that I am supposed to call ‘Myself’. But Myself is not my heart. Myself is not all the thoughts I think when trying to sleep. Myself is not me. And I am not It.
This carcass is carrying me through this world, but I cannot control what It says, what It does, or who It befriends. I cannot do anything but watch as It lives. Meanwhile, I am wasting away, trying to find ground, trying to find purpose, and trying to live when I can’t even breathe through my own body.
I am not Myself. I am me.