The day the ground was pulled from beneath my feet, I made a difficult decision.
I chose to stand.
Even if I staggered, I stood.
And because I was standing, no one thought I needed crutches.
Learning to navigate a world without ground, I strengthened my arms—
I had to carry the weight of my own body through the spaces.
And because I was strong, they called me efficient.
And because I was efficient, I threw myself into work and gave it everything.
And because I worked so hard, I was seen as useful.
And because I was always busy, I was labeled resilient.
And because I kept going, they placed me in a game whose rules I did not know,
a game I didn’t know how to play.
And because I didn’t know how to play, I bluffed like an actress,
and I swear—I tried on every mask life’s theatre offered.
And because I wore a mask, I became unbearable to myself.
And because I couldn’t bear myself, I gave in, I fell—
I shattered my face, my mask, my teeth,
and my heart, even more.
And because I was broken, I lost my worth.
And because no value was assigned to me, I couldn’t see myself in the dark I was in.
And because there was no light, I wandered lost—
for miles, or years, or galaxies…
And because I was lost, I grew tired.
And because I was tired, I stopped wherever the door was open.
And to be accepted, I smiled while bleeding.
And because I smiled, no one understood the reason for my pain.
And because I kept walking, no one noticed how weak my steps were.
My slumped shoulders gave room for my neck to stretch—
so no one saw I had, in truth, shrunk.
And because I was smaller, I no longer fit my clothes,
nor my beliefs.
And because I believed in nothing, I stopped believing in myself.
And because I didn’t know who I was, I invented a character.
And because I became that character, I finally was who I had always wanted to be.
And because I was who I wanted, I showed up as a clown.
And because I was a clown, I wore my brightest colors,
and clashed fashion with emotion in wild combinations.
And because I was in a circus, no one imagined I was a fraud.
And because I wasn’t real, I soon evaporated and ceased to exist.
And because I didn’t exist, I fit anywhere.
And because I fit anywhere, I could take any shape.
And because I had no shape of my own, I let others define me.
And because they told me who I was, I hated myself more each day.
And because I hated myself, I avoided all mirrors.
And without mirrors, I forgot what I looked like.
And in forgetting, I lost my name.
And without a name, no one ever called me.
And because I was not remembered, I forgot even what I used to feel.
And in that forgetting, I remembered the throbbing pain.
And because I was no longer numb, I screamed, seeking relief.
And because I screamed, they called me crazy.
And because I was crazy, I was shut out.
And because I didn’t fit, I cut pieces off myself to make it work.
And because I wasn’t whole, anything could attach to me.
And because I opened up to anything, anyone could walk in.
And because I was being invaded, I lost control—
lost the locks—
and they broke every latch I had.
And because I wasn’t locked, I was robbed.
And because I had lost so much, I also lost my sense.
And with nothing left to lose, I walked through doors without knocking—
and many of them shut in my face.
And because I was outside, I stopped caring what people thought.
And because I didn’t care, I spoke before I thought.
And because I said what I thought, they took my voice,
and my words.
And without words, I went silent.
And because I was quiet, they deemed me inappropriate.
And because I belonged nowhere, I made myself a disposable ornament.
And because I was discarded, I made myself scarce,
disappearing from the corners of curious eyes.
And because I was out of sight,
I ended up out of minds.
But...
Because I had been so far away,
I could finally hear myself in the echo.
And in hearing myself, I recognized the sound of my own presence.
And in recognizing it, I remembered that I once had a name.
And in remembering, I felt a longing for me.
And in that longing, I drew a new outline.
And in drawing that outline, I sketched a form.
And in having a form, I chose to no longer be just anything.
And because I wasn’t just anyone,
I dared to name myself.
And in giving myself a new name,
I gave myself permission to exist.