I am told of one way to live
I must follow through with a plan
Yet it is not my own

You must complete this
While living like that
On, but you’re not grown

Your age is just a number
When you try to make your own choices
Unless they line up with theirs

Your plan is not yours
But it is for your life
I guess it’s something we share

I thought my future
Would be my choice
But I guess that’s too optimistic

hot sharp pain
white fire pain
a hold of me
no escape pain

nipping at my ankles pain
squeezing my heart pain
a burning sensation
piercing the dark pain

a slip through the fingers
a just out of touch
a just a little longer
enough is not enough

pain in the past
pain in the present
pain promised in the future
but pain is not forever

You promised to stay
and never leave my side.
You promised to listen
and never guide me wrong.
You promised to help
and never let me fall.

You promised to love me
and never did.

Is it really a promise
if you swore to do something
you knew you never could?

their lives being reflected
is their biggest fear
what all is expected
is not my own plan

the chances they should have taken
the life they wish they had
those important hands not shaken
the goals they never met

always do what's right
always work
never cause a fight
never stop

the goal is not clear
am I living for me?
am I living in fear?
the answer screams

"I just want to make my parents proud"

still searching for the meaning
still searching for the why
it feels like my only purpose
is to be alive
then die

at what cost will I follow through with the plans they have for me?
if my heart longs for more, what will my choices be?
could I go against their wishes or would I be ungrateful?
should I speak my mind or watch my mouth as we gather at the table?

i lied to my therapist.
i’m not really sure why.
i feel a comfort in her office
with her helplessly millennial decor
and cozy lighting.

even with a bright smile and warm greeting,
a welcoming conversation.
a look of concern flashed across her face as she asked me
i lied.

i’m sure she could tell.
it was nothing against her.
i felt shame.
an impulse in the place where truth makes the most sense.
i still lied.

i ponder the reality of my lies
small things.
big things.
things i tell myself.
if i can’t even tell myself the truth,
of course i would lie to others.
but i don’t want to.
i don’t like lying.

i wish honesty was my policy
but it still seems to be people pleasing to my core.
i’m frustrated
i’m hurt
yet i’ve done this to myself
how could i?

I went to a party
without a date
I went to a restaurant
without a friend
I went to a reunion
without a boyfriend

who am I
without someone
am I someone
without the one

does the one feel the same
without me