Estranged

a poem

I have wandered for years

through the labyrinth of other people’s eyes,

searching for the version of me

they swore existed.

I held their accusations

like shards of stained glass,

turning them toward the light,

wondering if I could find myself

inside the distortions.

Tell me

what is it about a mirror

that causes some

to strike the glass

rather than face their reflection?

What is it about softness

that awakens the need to conquer,

to diminish,

to stand taller by forcing another to kneel?

I have spent nights

tearing myself apart

to understand why.

Examining every wound,

every word,

every silence.

Trying to trace the outline

of the monster they insisted lived beneath my skin.

But all I found

was a soul aching to belong.

A soul that wanted warmth,

connection,

a place to rest without the need of armor.

The loneliness of being misunderstood

unravels you.

Piece by piece.

A fracture spreading through bone.

A voice asking,

again and again,

“Who am I

if everyone sees someone else?”

But there comes a day

when exhaustion becomes wisdom.

When you stop standing trial

in courts that have already chosen a verdict.

When you realize

some people do not see you at all.

They see their fears.

Their projections.

Their stories.

Their shadows draped across your shape.

And no amount of explaining

can make someone witness

what they have already decided to ignore.

I spent so long

looking for myself

in the mouths of others

that I nearly disappeared.

When I finally turned inward,

I found traces of myself

everywhere they had never looked.

I no longer lived in the reflection held captive

inside another person’s gaze.

The noise never disappeared though.

I just simply stopped mistaking it

for my own voice.

I stopped asking,

“Why do they see me this way?”

and instead asked,

“Why was I looking through their eyes at all?”

I know who I am.

The question is…

when all the mirrors are gone,

when no one is left to tell you who to be,

do you know who you are?