Z

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 Years of my life flash before my eyes. 

Each moment farther apart than the last.

I feel like I am asleep.

Moments of clarity, like a futile gasp above the waves. 

I forget, often, that I am drowning. 

Fighting death with a body that no longer recognizes me as its master.

In those brief moments of lucidity,

All I can do is weep as I see how my face has aged, my body had changed and my environment becomes more foreign. 

I meet only eyes that speak her name.

Hands that have held “her” flesh.

Ears that hear only her voice.

Every inch catches fire as the thoughts creep in. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever escape. 

I feel as though I am doomed to catch the faintest glimpses of another woman taking my place in the world.

Over

And over.

Will I ever have the chance to love and be loved as myself?

Or will the world only hold its arms wide for the proxy?

When will I wake? 

Will it be too late?

How long must I live in the shadows of a stolen life?

If I did fight and win it back,

Would I ever truly have the right to lay claim and reap a harvest I did not sow?

Can I ever really be free when I feel ensnared in a perfect trap of my own design?

Can I free myself from chains forged by my own seething self hate?

I created her to be a better version of myself, 

Not a replacement. 

I went too long not wanting to be who I was,

Yet now I fear I know not who I am.

Or even yet,

Is there enough of me remaining to get to know?




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