Who am I?
A character of my own invention, someone I created if only to escape from what was really in front of me.
I grew into her, adopted everything about her from her personality to her smile.
So who is this girl staring me back in the mirror?
Is it me or is it another illusion, a lie?
Where are the answers to the questions I ask?
Hidden somewhere in her wild, brown locks.
I am devoured by a notion, that the life I am living is not my own.
Is it so strange for me to hide here, behind insincere jokes, and loud voices, and fake optimism?
I cover my eyes with a book and escape the prison I have locked myself in, the actions I have confined myself to, her.
But I fear that we are one, our thoughts as intertwined as our d.n.a.
She has colored over me in permanent marker, unannounced and unforgiven.
And now I find she has defined me as much as I defined who she was, writing over each other over and over, waiting for the day when I finally snap and lose myself completely.
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