Misery, With Company

Lately I’ve been

A version of myself

That I’ve never met—

Doing things I

Don’t know —

Learning enough to make my

Chest hair grow.

Lately I go to bed

Wondering who it is

I’m supposed to be

When I wake up tomorrow.

Often I miss the days

I had when my identity wasn’t so

Hard to swallow.

I’m happier now, I’m glad I’m out—

But being closeted was all I knew

Before this, sometimes I think that

Ignorance was bliss.

I often wish that I was still closeted.

It’s easier to put on a face

When you’re not yourself entirely.

Now, when I fail, when I do well

I have nobody to talk to inside of me—

Just authenticity with no comraderie

A shell of who I used to be —

Misery, with company.


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