Who Do You Think I Am?

I am Mikayla.

Like a Greek Goddess with too many epithets to her name.

Like an alexandrite, my colors bend to the will of the light around me.

I am Mikayla The Freak.

Loving freakish things in her freakish ways.

Never apologizing for her affinity toward her interests.

Who knew that art would be taboo in the days of middle school?

Freak, freak, freak.

Like an echo that could’ve lasted an eternity.

I am Mikayla The Quiet and Tormented

“Why don’t you ever speak up?” They ask. “If they were harassing you, you could’ve said something.”

My bird of speech had been shot down years ago, nothing was left to say.

I am Mikayla of Tortured Anxiety.

“They don’t like me” She thinks, “What if they hate me?”

Unease was potent to the point of freezing time.

The particulars of that year are gone.

Brainwashed by my own thoughts.

I am Mikayla of Forgiveness.

Returning over and over again to people she’s drifted from.

Giving them everything they needed to prosper for nothing in return.

Allowing herself to be stepped on for their benefit, even when they didn’t deserve it.

Who do you think I am?