1-3-15 forty two days clean
I'm fighting to not be who I used to be.
But I'm also fighting to not be who they think I am now.

My own reflection feels watered down and broken.
The entire fucking mirror itself is shattered.

I don't know who I'm supposed to be.
I don't know who I want to be.
I don't even know.

I can't call myself a poet or a musician because this feeling of complete hatred for what I'm doing in those areas came crashing in through the rafters. Thinking about feeling that again makes me sick. It kind of breaks my heart to see things I love so much make me hate myself.

I'm lost; perhaps you could tell me who I am again because it feels I can only remember my name..
- (m.m)