I wasn't a crayon
or a pen
or a marker
or a highlighter
or whatever it was you used me for
to fill in your empty spaces.

I wasn't your therapist
even though I'm studying to be one
even though I've always wanted to be one
even though everyone else used me as one
but you were supposed to be different-
even said you would be.

I wasn't mendable.
I'm no puppet
I'm no object of manipulation
I'm no tool for your satisfaction
yet you assumed I was palpable
and your hands were everywhere.

I'm human
not a product of your imagination.
I'm my own color,
my own healer.

I am myself,
the self in which you never knew.

The self that ran away from you.