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.