Andie.ink

Expect me to change.
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Expect me to vacillate.
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I’ve had to create a million different versions of myself in order to survive.
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I’ll be who I was one minute, another person the next, and then circle back around again to my safety net.
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When I breath in, I am one person.
When I exhale, another.
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I’m shifting and changing and transfigurating.
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I rise up anew one day, only to lay down and decay the other.
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I’ve lived a thousand different lives and tried on three hundred different skins.
Only to find the inner child still stays within.
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Hold onto hope with each new past that this cast of me will be the last.
I create and I dine on the divine that I see kindling inside.
.But we aren’t home yet. We aren’t out of the woods.
There’s still faces to use and skins to hoist askew.
.All because I will never feel at home with you.
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Onward I traipse on into the battle royal.
Recreating myself day after day in search of a skin that feels just right.
So. Don’t be surprised when I show up not right. . I’m changing. I’m vacillating. .The version of me you knew from before has been shed long ago.
Laying somewhere on my bedroom floor.
Wrinkled and worn and too abused to be used.
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But that’s who I was and your expectations are on you.
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I’m new.
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I’ll be new again tomorrow.
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I’m sorry you thought that it was my skin you could borrow.
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But deep down in my fragmented heart
The divine is sparking. It’s trying to start.
Crack by crack it’s filling in.
Who I was supposed to be…
Who I was meant to be then…
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Before I was borrowed, taken and used.
Before I was violated, touched and abused.
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She’s there, deep down under in all of her femme.
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Starting to burn and remember who she was …
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Way back when.