Zephyr

It does not mean that they actually care

Just because a loved one will stand in your way

It doesn't mean they're emotionally aware

It's easy to hide behind being overwhelmed when you feel like you're constantly a burden

But you don't just want to be a persona, you also need to be a person

And now you're realizing that your serotonin is completely depleted

A coward is shivering inside

Today, I'll, I'll be a friend of mine

It’s not dramatic.

It’s subtle, like a radio slightly changing frequency

every time the room shifts.

Some days I am certain.

Some days I am barely there at all.

I look for myself in patterns:

how I talk, how I react, what I want, what I swear I don’t want anymore.

But even those don’t hold still.

Even those rewrite themselves without asking.

It feels like identity isn’t missing,

just unstable.

Like it exists, but can’t decide its shape.

And then there is my favourite person.

Not a choice that feels like a choice.

More like gravity noticing me.

When they are close, I feel assembled.

Like the scattered pieces line up for a while

and I can pretend I know who I am.

I speak differently.

Think more clearly.

Feel less like smoke.

But it isn’t steady, it’s conditional.

A message can shift the air.

A delay can change the shape of my thoughts.

Silence can turn everything inward again,

and I start trying to become someone

who won’t be left.

I don’t always notice I’m changing.

I just notice I’m not me anymore

and I don’t know when I stopped being them.

So I rebuild.

Over and over.

From reactions, reflections, fragments of what worked last time.

And I keep wondering

if there is a “me” underneath all of it

or if I am just the space between attachments,