You decide who I am before I even speak.
You build a version of me in your mind—
Something easier to understand,
Something safer,
Something that isn’t even real.
And I try to fit inside it.
Not because I believe you,
But because I don’t know if I ever had a choice.
Every choice is a test I never agreed to take.
But no matter how carefully I exist,
You still decide for me.
While I’m overthinking every word.
You make my prison,
And I willingly crush myself to fit inside.
I suffocate—helpless,
Unable to kill the part of me that cares.
So why do I keep trying?
Why do I let you decide who I get to be?
When no matter what I do,
You will never see me.
If I can’t turn off the part of me that cares.
If I can’t silence my fear — the weight of your judgment.
Maybe I don’t have to.
Maybe I can be afraid and still move.
Still breathe.
Still exist as me.