"me"

It feels quite vain

to put it this way

but I lost a part of my identity,

one that I never quite rebuilt

until the threat loomed so heavily

that I would lose it once again;

I have never been one to care

about what the others think

but is my own opinion

not important enough?

I like myself

this way-

motivated, fresh, clean, adorned, disciplined

and maybe it makes me resistant to change

but I am afraid

and I don’t know why

but maybe it is because

although this is not a big deal,

it was a big deal

when the thing that I lost

was my mask,

when the tears that I cried

were shed along with something

that told the world who I was

when really I was less than.

Maybe this struggle is not about the loss

but rather the hole in my heart

and the pains in my stomach

and maybe I can find a way

to still be

me.