i am

a person who wakes up and works and thinks and feels then tries to go to sleep. everyone is like me is a selfish statement because i am like everyone and who would copy me.

in a plain place between plain people yet somehow i am the plainest because their names get memorised for three months and mine gets forgotten in two weeks. is my name even mine if it was handed to me like the rest of these things that don't seem to belong to me?

a ghost between ghosts a part of a group never an individual nothing that would make anyone look at me, and if no one looks at me then how can i be. how can i be who i want to be and what do i want to be? do you sit down and wonder or is it just me, wonder if you'd rather wake up a different person or never wake up to be?

lost on the way to a shop in a large mall lost when i was told that i am not whole, a whole package but rather one that was dropped and missing a couple pieces a knock off that is neither the worst or best quality always in the middle always there never with a mark to leave.

it hits me that i will always be and that is meant to be, but who is me and why is me so bland. i am good i am great i am lovely at many things but i am never perfect, never the best, not even second not even last maybe thirty seventh.

even these troubles that trouble me are all not mine, copied from generations of insecurities and fantasy standards and the mirror in front of me. maybe feeling unworthy makes me special, then i remember a million million others think like me including who's reading these words right now and feeling seen.

do you feel seen?