It’s never about getting back to you,
to the person you were before you knew him.
Before that trauma, that move,
that death or rebirth.
It’s never about finding yourself again.
As if you could lose you.
You are always becoming,
always moving and shifting.
It is difficult to hear
and even more difficult to understand
when you have become someone you don’t know,
someone you hate.
“I don’t feel like myself.”
Too bad. You are you,
even when you don’t want to be.
Even when you pathetically deny it.
Maybe it was your fault.
Maybe circumstances or events caused you
to become this pitiful Thing.
It doesn’t matter why, once you have Become
something small and scared
who doesn’t trust herself,
or anyone else.
Uncertainty drips from her mouth like drool.
Her firm Yes’s and No’s muddle into “I guess”.
Irritability sidesteps in front of her
every time she takes a turn,
and becomes her only face.
You hate her,
you are her.
You cannot get back to the person Before
because you have already Become.
But the best part about becoming,
when you stop foolishly attempting to get back,
is that you will Become again,
and again,
and again,
until you can sit with yourself and admit
that she is you and you are her
and you have Become so much since that terrible Becoming,
that you are easy for you to love.
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