Am I no more than a survivor?
A survivor of 9-11, a survivor of disease, a survivor of the world.
A minuscule spec upon the glass that covers our world, small and unimportant among utter chaos.
Am I no more than a child?
A child full of ideas, full of knowledge, full of wishes left behind.
One who dreams of changing the world, while striving to perfect her own.
Am I no more than a heartbroken human being?
One who’s heart has been protracted to its breaking point, taking maybe one too many blows along the way.
Just another heartbeat among many left whole and full, or broken and in pieces.
Am I no more than a superhero?
A hero to many souls, above the rest in imaginative minds.
One who, to be honest, just wishes to be free and independent, unattached from responsibilities.
Am I as much as I claim to be?
Can I simply be who I truly am, while living up to ruthless expectations?
I should indeed be myself, because life is too short to be anybody else, even for a second.