I never thought the things I was interested in
Would be interesting to anyone else.
I never thought of who I was
As just a singular iteration
Of the same thing playing out
On the inside of everybody else
No I was different
An impostor faking it until
I figured out what everyone else
Already seemed to know.
I never learned to dance
Or whistle or give a proper wink.
If I think too much about what I want to say
Before I say it, it comes out trembling
And the words run off to therapy.
I’m still more afraid of what I’ve done
Than the unknown that’s surely coming.
If someone says they’re proud of me
What I hear is that they might love me
So I can’t let them know I’m
Just another selfish ass
And deserving of total scorn.
They might stop loving me
Or worse, they wouldn’t,
Maybe pull me closer, double down,
Love me even more.
But that would feel like something else
Not love as I defined it, but different.
I would need a new word added to the private
Dictionary locked in the cabinet of my head
A word I would never say out loud
In front of whoever was right there
When I started to feel it happening