Metamorphosis

All my life, fear has controlled me. The fear of not being successful, not being good enough, and disappointing the ones we love most. That fear has slowly caused me to doubt my talents, doubt the love I recieve, question my future, and most importantly, lose who I am. I come home, mentally exhausted, ready to give up, but I still keep going. Fear not only hinders me, it drives me. To keep working so I do not fail, and become what me fear leads me to think. 

I have been afraid to be my own person, because fear told me that people would judge me, tease me for being my own person, and being individual. Fear told me that if I conform, I survive. My fear told me that fear has more credibility, than the sense of adventure, and self-love. For the longest time, I submitted. Fear had convinced me that I would be its slave. I was shackled by the fear. Around my wrists were the chains of low self-esteem, and around my ankles, were the shackles of disappointment. Around my neck, was the heaviest weight. The fear of being to just be. I was a slave in my own body, and instead of reaching to someone, anyone, to tell them about it, I kept it bottled up inside. I knew it would take a toll on me somehow, but I kept up the act of somneone who was open, kind, ready to support others before I support myself.

I let my fears keep me from being truly happy. I look back and wonder every now and again, when was the last time I genuinely laughed at something? When was the last time I felt comfortable in my own skin? When was the last time I was truthful about what I felt? The sad truth was that I could not remember. I had truly lost who I was in the midst of the stress of testing, my future, and how I saw myself. 

It did not dawn on me that I truly needed help, until I had done something truly terrible to call it into attention. I brought the hurt in me, to the outside. Fear had once again told me, I would amount to nothing. I was hurt not only inside, but it showed on the outside. Once again, I was dead. Life was not with me, because I had abandoned it. What doubled as my death became my awakening. I had become honest with myself. I don't know if I will make it, and I don't know what my future holds. Despite of all this, I need to realize that in what time I have left, I need to embrace my truth. I must fight the fear that held me captive and reinvent myself to be better. My death becomes new life, and in that new life, I need to realize my potential, and stay true to my ability. I need to see that it is okay to have an off day, to be sad, angry, and hopeless, because in the darkest hour, the moon will shine bright, and I will start anew. This is only the cacoon around me, which one day will break open and reveal what I've been hiding the whole time. I am adamant to be reborn, and become what I am destined to be. The butterfly I hope to become.

This poem is about: 
Me

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