cracks in the stone that binds me

and only a blurry silhouette of you

there is only a shell of me
as I gaze into my own eyes
with disdain pooling in the back of my bones
as I realize that I both like it and don't like it.

I like the body I inhabit
I like the gentle curves
and the sharp corners
and the intense eyes
with the angry eyebrows that keep bad people away

but.....

..but the person inside is...

...a liar.

a shapeshifter.

someone who is not someone.

something that pretends to be a person.

those eyes—
they are hollow, and dull,
and for a horrifying moment,
I think they are my own.

my own eyes—
damned to be so glassy and dead.

but no—
I am moments away from realizing that they are not.

they were once mine,
but now, they are no more.

this blurry silhouette that I have been chasing
over
and over
and over
and over again
that has changed wardrobes countless times to throw me off—
make me think I've made it and changed—
has been a fragment of the person I want to be
not someone I want

and as I realize that I have been chasing shadows for my entire life up until this point,
I stop.

I don't break down.
I don't have a meltdown.
I'm both too numb and too wise to allow that.
I'm too controlling to let that happen.

instead,
I just go take a shower,
and let the emotions run their course.

I am renewed,
but I am still in pain.

these scars will never go away,
but I'll be damned if I let them reopen again without a fight.