I’ve been searching.

With a longing heart and droopy eyes, I’ve not stopped wandering.

I’m trying to find me. To find what makes me tick. To discover exactly who I am and to never sway ever again.

I’m just fighting to belong.

What I used to love… I just don’t need anymore. Don’t want it. In a way, I despise it.

Those past delights only bring up present confusion.

Who was she?

Who is me?

Why aren’t I she?

Why am I me?

And how am I supposed to explain to you, and to everyone else, why I’ve changed when I’m not quite sure myself?

All I’ve been chasing is happiness.

Why do I keep losing my shoes along the way?

Will I ever know me?

Did I ever know she?

I’ve accepted the beginning of my evolution, but that doesn’t mean you have. No, familiarity is a gift like no other. Familiarity is what keeps a dementia-consumed mind anchored to the will to live.

You want me to stay this way because it’s familiar. I’m familiar.

To you.

I don’t recognize myself, but as long as your end of the looking glass is spotless, mine can be fog-ridden. Right?

I am a solid fact to you. An anchor that you may not be aware is helping you stay grounded when everything else changes.

So who am I to take that from you? Who am I to steal a delight of yours over an uncomfortableness of my own?

Am I selfish?

Am I selfless?

No really, please, who am I?



Taelyn's Posts

Tae View All →

Life can be messy. Thank God I have my faith and my pencil.

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