I Am, & I Am Not

I see myself here, and then I am not. My reflection in the mirror, the print of my body in my bed, my blankets out of place, my coffee bag drying on my kitchen counter, left over boiled water in my pot… My mind on you and my heart in your hands. Therefore, I am here, and I am not.

Traces of me left all over your bed, the smell of my perfume linger in your closet and on your pillows. I love you and crave you texts every morning, noon and night. Pouring myself into you at every opportune moment. Yet, in your view I have slowly disappeared.

Literally existing like a ghost … Living, moving, seeing, craving, sensed and unknown. Feeling very much alive and real, but nonexistent... Basically invisible, because who can see me? Really see me. Only the one that I wish could see me. See me fully, existing, For what and who I am. My heart yells , “My love, it is me!” And asks, “Can you see me?” But begs, “Please don’t forget me.” In wondering, “Will you ever really see me?” For who I am. For who I want to be, for you?

I loathe the answer! Because I know, I am, and I am not. The wrenching pain, dispair and agony my heart suffers! The twisting distortion my mind encounters. What am I to do? Can I only be seen as what is within the ability of the perception of who I desire? Or, is it my worst fear? Choosing to no longer see me, and consequently becoming a version of me, that is not me.

As a shadow, I’m just a fixture tainting on the reflection of light, of that which exists, somewhere! But where? Not in your loving view. Where I want to be, belonging to you. My heart aches. Not where I desire to be, in whole. Pieces of me, that’s what you see. I worry, “Is this how you see me?” and I fear, it’s all I’ll ever be.

Just the elements of what I am constructed as and could be. For you. For us. Am I, just a fragmented reflection? An imaginary silhouette of your true, Juliette. Maybe I am not, yet as I am, a test simulation of that which you actually want to experiment. Do you not see I am what you seek?! Look away from your perceptions and see me as source to your view. Could the reality of my image to you be so bleek? I beg of you. See me! Free me! Don’t leave me here in the shadows. But what choice do you have? As a hovering of what could be, I have no voice, there in, no choice. Because I am, and I am not.

When will I realize and accept, you control this narrative. I know my efforts are in vain. I fear what I will become as I go insane. I seek, I move, I try, I shout, I aim, I push myself to the limits and in moments I feel real! I question again, and again… How can you not see me? Is it because you wish not to. I must accept it, but I can’t! The truth, you will it, what’s true, and whole to you.

So that’s it? I cannot will myself in full because you wish it not. I cannot be whole, because you wish it not. In my angry desperation fueled by a broken heart, who is it that distorts your vision of what you see?

Who takes away the true love of what we could be? Do I sit in blame? Or is just me? Yet the power needed to see, does not exist in me. Because, I am, and I am not.