Who I Am, Is Not Who I Am. Poem by Sarah Hilliard

Maybe its because I hold high standards for myself. push myself in every direction except the right one. I explore each aspect and pray the path I take is the right one. I have become a monster. I am no longer the person I loved. when I look in the mirror I no longer see my own self image, just a blank body covering up my own feelings. I wish I was someone else sometimes or not here at all. All of the feelings I have felt, are they real? I have no idea what love is anymore. I am so tangled in my hatred for the people who have lied to me, used me, hurt me, kept things from me and sold me out for a good laugh. I can't get past those feeling of inadequacy. You must lay in the bed you make, you dont like this monster, too damn bad. You made her.



Sometimes when I hear certain songs all I can do is cry. I feel numb too the point I would rather not feel about anything or anyone. I feel pushed away. Shoved in a corner so noone will find me. Hidden because I am not what my friends, family or hell even most of my relationship wanted. I have so much love to give. I have open arms. I have never turned you away so why do you turn your back on me? is it that easy to just play with my emotions? do you really not see how you make me feel? Can you not tell when I cry myself to sleep to the sounds of complex melodies, replaying the past year of my life? I have never felt lower then I do now, still you keep pressing weights on my chest to sink me further into the abyss and as I look up at you from below, I wonder.



Did you ever feel the way I feel? or can you feel at all? am I going to keep trying because I love the way it feels to fail over and over again? will you ever understand that what you are doing isnt out of love, its out of spite. I am not someone you can walk all over. I am being with more love and heart in her pinkey then you will ever have. Just realize that the next time you really think you want to pretend you know who I am. I hate who I am, most because who I am is made from you.