I’m not the one you’re looking for. I’m damaged goods. Internal. My external is just something I’ve built for protection and to keep face.
I still battle my demons. My nights are still sleepless. I’ve lost the ability to dream. My creativity is dormant and I can’t wake it up.
But you don’t know that.
Because I keep all of it from you. Because I can’t be weak. Because my make up won’t allow me to stop helping you when you’re in need. I listen when you need me to. I abandon my own resources to build you up.
I ask for nothing in return.
But yet, I need something. But you never give it. And I can’t say it out loud. And I resent you for that.
But I’m still there to lend a helping hand.
Why do you see me as someone who is capable? You don’t know me. You don’t know about my skeletons. About my past.
I’m behind the scenes but you want me to be in the spotlight.
I don’t want that.
I want to live in my shadows. I want to do it my way.
But you keep me in the open.
I can’t do it. A part of me allows it.
I don’t want it. But my path suggests it.