The You I Am

The You I Am

By: Prof.998

There’s something different about you- as though some parts of you were removed from your body; as though your body is trying to fill in the blanks itself. Yet you still feel whole, even whilst whatever inside you consumes you from within.

It tells you you are something while erasing your existence; it tells you you are in love while it erases your heart. You know this and yet, you are unable to stop it- unable to lift your fingers to stop it.
For you knew if you were to get rid of it, you would’ve lost the last part of yourself that made you you.

You did this, you wanted this, and yet, it still haunts you. It makes you evil, it makes you fall, it makes you someone you are. It makes you the person that you “deserve” to be.
You stepped up onto the stage, watching a crowd gather to see you. Watching the hall fill, you steel yourself, hiding away the emptiness within yourself, getting ready to dazzle everyone with your performance. And you did. You readied another,  preparing a sparkling finale.
And sparkle it did, but at what cost?

You watched as one after another people gathered around you, congratulations slowly gathering, confidence slowly rising. Suddenly,  a thunderous symphony of claps emerged from the crowd. You’ve done it- you’ve danced yet another waltz, captivating everyone.

You slowly retreat back into your chambers, not wanting for another second to strike another chorus. Realising the irony that one such as yourself could captivate a crowd, someone without the soul to emulate their own emotions.

You became the faceless dancer.

You want to go back out suddenly, to feel the thrill of your own performance; to experience all those emotions you expressed so well on the stage. You want so desperately to tell someone your thoughts, but every time you try, another part of you tells you to stop thinking of the impossible. Perhaps though, for the first time in forever, it might be right about this.

You want it to come back. That’s something you know, even though you don’t want to believe it. You want it to come back to rebuild the pieces it left behind. Maybe it was you all along; maybe it was there to be with you, not destroy you.

But how will you know now? The show’s already over, and there will be no encore. Ever.