Me.
I am me.
I am the person who's never chosen first.
I am the person who chooses people over myself.
I am the person who cries for others.
I am me.
I feel other people's pain.
I take it to heart, always.
I know when someone is upset,
Even if no one sees it.
I am the person who doesn't know how to comfort people.
I am the person who is only good at comforting people online.
I am me.
I am the person who tries, but it's never enough.
I am the person who knows my friends are slipping away before they even realize it.
I am the person who everyone can replace easily.
Because that's what they did.
I am me.
I am the person who gets jealous easily,
Because I'm afraid.
I am the person who is sensitive,
I can't handle being hated,
But I'm used to it at the same time.
I am me.
But who is me?
I wouldn't be able to answer that.
I don't know who I am.
I'm everything,
And nothing.
I am me.
I am the girl who perfers rainy, cloudy, dark, misty days.
I prefer night over day.
I prefer the moon over the sun.
I prefer to be alone than surrounded by people.
I am someone.
But not me.
Me is lost.
I lost me so many years ago.
Me is an empty shell who only feels when others feel.
Me is nothing but a ghost.
But also not.
I don't know who she is.
Me copies other people's personalities.
She can't feel by herself.
People need to feel for her.
And yet, she cries for others.
But not really.
She can't cry on her own.
Me is an empty shell.
I am not me.
That's what me tells herself.
She isn't me.
But she is me.
I am me.
