Gaslighting

My name is dreaming as a verb but I have spent my whole life as an adverb like a side dish that prepares you for the main one and I don’t know which paths led me here or it’s because of all those paths that I missed my spatial orientation is fuc*ed mind has it’s own will it aligns according to the needs and desires of other just like a side dish sometimes I'm too much so they postpone me aside or I’m used for digestion layering paving the way for the chef's recommendation in other scenario they just skip me as I "value" less then the preferred main course value such a discriminating word forcing gradation division between two poles creating binary emulsion where we all suffocate eventually I can’t breathe accumulated stress from constant apprehension whether I’ll be delayed, ignored, or consumed constructed thick cobweb layer above my larynx which caught me in the adverb matrix where you don’t have time to rebel against side dish label as you’re occupied by grasping air I can’t breathe my bio is laid on the last page of the menu I’m tired I’m so tired of being accompaniment for someone else’s happiness I just can’t breathe my heart is trauma bonded mind is living in side dish delusion and lungs have misplaced their confidence beneath that cobweb I want to fire the match and start my own private big bang I need to