I am myself,

but not as whole.

I often try to scrape up every last piece of who I can be

but retreat, in shame,

for

I am the quiet within myself.

the inner battle to say it-

no, don’t

when everyone else is listening with eager eyes,

but all I have to say is nothing at all

I am the horn blaring,

the stomach rumbling.

I am the ache for more than what’s here

for more than I see

for more than I know,

but

I am chained.

chained to the worry that bubbles in my mind

chained to the parts of me that I left behind

chained to the thoughts I can’t explain

chained to who I will never be

I am a tornado of doubt.

a chilling wind,

spiraling, spinning, searching,

wrecking all in its path

all light crushed by the sweeping winds of

“you’re not good enough”

that swallow me up and spit me out into pieces of myself

that are just not quite right

I am a rusty old car

headlights fading, tires sinking

thumping down the road

because each turn of the steering wheel is too much effort than it’s worth

constantly surrounded by other cars that glide by

not worn, not tired

but I am tired.

so, so tired of watching the world dance without me

as I merely watch with a blank stare

alone and shivering

waiting for someone to invite me to dance too

yes, I am waiting.

waiting for something inside of me to finally wake up,

to realize what it’s been missing and

let me sing to the world what I know

yet choose to keep to myself

I am buried.

under an avalanche of insecurity

where all air is stripped by the putrid scent of what others may say

I constantly search and search for an opening

as the air shrinks, shrinks, shrinks, around me

but soon I can no longer breathe

but at times, I inhale a cooling stream of air, and then,

I am laughter

the fizzing sensation in your stomach after a hard laugh

out of words from the energy it took to smile so hard

stunned by how happiness can overtake fear in an instant

In other words, I am a smile

a crooked smile with teeth glowing

out of place and angled, yet when the lips lift

they make up something unique,

beautiful, and

whole

so I try to lift the curtain of my smile, no matter how imperfect I am,

because, yes, I may be silence

but I am also

power.