An Enigma of a Woman
I'm a conundrum at best...
An enigma of a woman.
Reality is... I don't hardly understand myself
So why should I expect any other to attempt to do so.
Loving who I am is almost nauseating to me...
So why do I feel the need for someone else to love who I am?
It's difficult, to say the least
To be trapped in a body that feels foreign to you,
And entangled in a mind that doesn't feel meant for you.
I'm not looking for pity...
Or even someone to care.
Quite frankly, the idea of invisibility has almost started to comfort me...
I could be in a room of only 3, and I would still lack noticeability.
I'm average, at best.
I know this to be true.
Although, sometimes, someone or something will make me feel seen out of the blue.
It's these moments I hold onto.
Tightly gripping onto the idea of being important...
When my darkness starts to take on a more catastrophic hue.
I'm not happy.
Nor am I sad.
I'm kind of just here and that's usually all I have.
But, the bright side is, even if I feel I don't have much
I'm still alive and kicking and I am blessed to be as such...
Even if I'm here by happenstance, tightroping on some random crutch
I'm honored to have this life
And be present as the messed up individual I am
I'm 28...
With plenty of trauma, hurt, and understanding beneath my belt
I hope to have many more years to figure out why I'm here and to play the hand I've been dealt
And maybe grasp my energy better and let my demons yield
I'm not planning on leaving this earth anytime soon
So move over my inner chaotic nonsense, I'm coming through.
And I plan, hopefully soon, to have better control over you!
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