who I am
It has been a very long time since I sat here like this.
Fingers tangled through my own hair, tears hot on my cheeks, quiet, scared, pulling the pillow close – trying to pretend.
Even now I can never ask for what I need.
I am strong. That is what he says. Maybe he forgets.
I pretend. I have always pretended – because I do what I have to do. I do the homework, I kiss the tears, show up at the school, teach the ABC’s, stand up to the ex. It has to be done.
But that is not really who I am. It is just who I am forced to be.
I wish it was really me.
Because being so soft and small inside is scary.
But that is the girl he found 3 years ago.
It is the girl I still am. Needy, small and scared of the whole world. I just cannot say it anymore.
But he will probably decide that he does not want that girl anyway.
Just like the ex.
Who I really am is not ok.
Who I am is not good enough.
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