Again and again I return to the same space,

The same words eating me up from the inside,

The same lack of self.

 

I forget who I am.

I forget to believe in myself.

I forget what it means to be alive after all of this.

I forget who I am past the size of my thighs,

As though my thighs could sum up my existence and identity.

As though the shape of my body could  fill my life with meaning.

 

And I feel so insecure, so unsure of who I am or who I am becoming.

I feel lost and out of place as I have for so many years,

And yet so close;

Everyday a little closer to who I may become.

 

I’m scared that I’m not living up to the person I always imagined I’d become,

As though there were some sort of rush,

As though anything could ever be enough.

 

And it’s everything my dad taught me to be.