I am a forced independant,
a girl of seventeen who feels like an unworthy descendent;
reminding myself that others have it worse,
that being sad is a self-proclaimed curse.

I am also me and myself,
family relationships put on a shelf.
A shelf untouched, full of dust.
My distress and troubles, never discussed.

I am from a place
where years have gone by without an embrace.
A place where the saying “I’m proud of you,”
appears hard to give tongue to.

I am learning,
learning that trust is something worth earning.
Finding that one thing or person
who helps with my struggles, so that they don’t worsen.

I am now a free soul,
the theatre allowing me to play a different role.
A place where I can express my emotions otherwise hidden,
a sanctuary where acting different is not forbidden.

I am still covered,
having no reason for wanting the real me to be discovered.
Draped with a sheet of false happiness,
unaware that I was also an offstage actress.

I’m okay,
this is the lie that I try to convey.
Hopefully I will mean something to someone someday.