i’m trying to write, right
write right what has been wrong
i lost myself in breakdown
retrograde spinning backwards dizzily
can’t remember who i am, who i was
or who i’m meant to be.
i need a hand to hold, as you held mine
and tried to remind me,
i’m here, i’m complete.
but words ring empty when
i still feel so hollow, i scooped myself out.
am i dissociating? a persistent occurrence
for weeks four weeks.
i take the medication and feel separate
from myself but when i don’t i am myself.
i hate myself.
i wish there were a medicine that could
make me love myself.
i want to clean out my closet
all the clothes that don’t fit,
never have never will.
all the skins of myself i hang up,
too tight, too loose, too wrong never right.
i’m tired.
i know i’d miss myself,
a self i never was and i’m sorry
i gave you the impression i was different,
and worth understanding,
when i don’t understand myself
hardly at all any of the time.
i just want to know why
where i went and will i come back,
like dad who left for milk and cigarettes.
i want to move away,
forget everything and start again
where nobody knows my name, who i am.
i’m so sad.
i’m sorry i’m not myself,
i wish i could be, for you,
for me, too.
i’m tired of searching.
this constant skin shifting itching
like a rash i scrape at myself
only to make it worse
and i just have to learn
to let sleeping dogs lie,
and let the caged bird fly.
i want to come home. i want to belong
within myself,
but i’ve never felt so out of place.
i think it’s time to take my medication.
i’ll see you someday, wherever i went.