Sometimes,
in the night,
I wake up crying from a dream.
A dream that was good,
so incredibly good.

The kind of dream
where I'm invited to do things
and let in on jokes
and lives
and thoughts
and everyday things,
even the simplest...

the kind of dream
in which I can speak freely,
and I'm afraid of nothing.
The kind of dream
where I'm a normal person,
and people want me.

But then I wake up from the tears
because even in sleep,
even when I try to hide in dreams
I still know I'll never be like that.
I'll never speak freely,
be brave
be normal
be liked.

be wanted.

I'll never be someone people will want
and remember
and cherish,

I'll only ever be me.
and me isn't worth existing.