All the things I'm not

why is it that i sleep when i should wake? do i shut out the world and go to the closest thing i have to a safe place one without responsibility, a place without pain or fear or love or loss?

is it so hard for me to face this life? too hard to contemplate that i am only me, only what i am and nothing more?

i should be more than this
i should me more than you, more than them, more than i ever was or now feel i ever can be

this should be mine, that should too, he should, she should, it should all belong to me

or am i not destined for better?
am i the less than average one? the person i pity, and who i never wanted to become?

am i me?
is there me?

does what i am actually exist, or is it only the idea of myself that matters in this world? a confident opinion, a solid viewpoint, of something so fluid and changeable, fragile

white noise now is soothing, it makes no change, familiar always. in it i can dream of who i am not, dream of all the things i've got

but really i have only me
just me
(i hate him)