she once said to me
"you are a star-girl
shadowed by the guise of inadequacy."
I had raised an eyebrow at her
"it isn't a guise," I said. "it is the shroud that follows me wherever I go."
it is what makes me feel helpless
what makes my blood still
it is what infuriates me
it is what keeps me up at night
it makes me scream
it is what makes the tears come out
what makes me gnash my teeth
because no matter what I do
I am just another human being
bruised knuckles, aching lungs
throbbing head, slow death
choking on my own less-ness
keeping my head held down
knowing all the while, that—
here we all are
still alive
no protagonist exists in this world
we are only half here
trying to keep our heads above
the surface of symmetry
desperately trying to prove
that we aren't just faces in the crowd.
(it is a lie.)
