I was
raised to be a clone
with no
sense of self,
like an
appendage,
controlled
by another.
Anything
that didn’t measure up
to their
beliefs, ways, or thoughts
was
quickly smashed,
along
with me.
I was
never free
to become
uniquely
me,
in
their
presence.
And now,
I still
have memories
of the
pain of being
different
and not
measuring
up,
of needing
to be
exactly
the
same.
I’ve
tried to blend in,
chameleon-like,
but that
is death to me.
My sense
of self
comes
creeping up,
like a
shadow coming alive,
but then,
I become afraid
and try
to stomp it out,
just like
what
was done
to me.
I don’t
want to be a murderer,
but I am
so afraid,
that if I
am so different,
I will be
rejected,
again and
again,
as I have
been,
from time
immemorial.
I’m
continually told,
I should
be different,
fit this
mold,
or else,
I will
not love you,
I will
not be with you,
I will
not talk to you,
I will
not hug you.
Apparently,
the
choice
to be
me
is
very,
very,
very
lonely.
Precious Linda, c. 2013
