This Is Me

Adrift

"Hi" they say,

"Hello" they say,

"How are you" they say.

I don't hear them. 

I don't hear any of it.

I only hear, 

the soft chirp of a bird,

The rumbling of an engine,

The bustle of the crowds,

The pages of books turning.

I can't focus.

Does that mean I'm broken?

Does that mean I'm dumb?

Does that mean I'm different?

Yes,

No,

Maybe so.

"Everyone's different" they say,

"Everyone has their quirks" they say,

"Everyone is imperfect" they say.

But they don't mean that.

Someone is perfect,

Or as close as they can get,

And I am so far from them,

That there is no comparison.

I feel broken,

I feel disconnected,

I feel adrift in my own life.

They say "you write your own story,"

They say "be the hero in your own life,"

They say "Be yourself,"

But who am I again?

Who is the broken person I am?

Who is it?

Because I can no longer tell.

I wake up,

I go to school,

I do everything right,

But I don't feel accomplished.

I feel lonely, hollow.

I feel adrift,

As if I have nothing of substance in my life,

And I don't know how to fix it.

I don't know how to fix myself.

For I am broken; different; hollow; 

I don't know myself anymore

Because I am adrift in my own life.

They say, "be you"

But I don't know me anymore.