Finding my Authenticity 

This body feels shallow and broken.

I live in a costume, losing my sense of self.The mirror shows a reflection that is not mine. It shouts condemnation, and I destroy everything I touch. Destroying relationships, destroying myself. I long to be loved for me, but I first have to find my authenticity. I long for belonging, instead I am met with hate. 

I am judged before I know what I did. I am seen as unstable and dramatic. I take their accusations as truth as their beliefs define me. I am told to brush it off, ignoring their shooting arrows. Comfort is a lie, acceptance dies. Maybe one day I will be seen as me, as my truth. Maybe one day my heart will be free to live in my truth, not who they want me to be. To work so hard to be worthy, only to be trampled and forgotten. Their judgments slowly kills my spirit, and I question my worth. My existence is dead, my heart barely hanging on. Loneliness is my whole world. Will I ever belong? Will I ever be included? 

I have learned to live in isolation. Their judgments lock me in a prison cell when I committed no crime. Who can save my sense of self? Will I ever be given a chance to prove their judgments are in vain. Even my apparent friend value their judgments, leaving me betrayed. Friendships are conditional, and gossip spreads quickly. 

None of it says I did anything wrong, but I accept their truth as my own and I leave myself behind. When I die, nobody will know my name. I will go six feet under, and nobody will grieve my name. I will be forgotten and my life and death will continue to exist in loneliness.