I wrap myself
Adding the layer someone else gave to me
Tossed it on me to hide; hide what they didn’t like
Did I let them pick up my loose limbs and shove me into something new?
Something to be worn like it was meant for me
Fitting to my body
One new layer over an older one
Pushing down all that came before it
Suffocating pressure
Layer after layer
Pushing down on one another
They become so entwined they can’t be removed
These layers that were given to me
To wear like armor
To show the world who I am
Who they need me to be
If I try and strip down
To become what I am underneath
Will I like what I find,
Can I survive the cold reality?
I unwrap myself
Removing each different layer
Did I put it on myself?
Did I pick it up and let it envelop me,
Molding like a glove to my body
Becoming someone new
Wearing each layer like it was always part of me.
Not—something I found along the way,
A forgotten gift,
A misplaced thought.
I drag it with me, all on the ground
Scattered gift paper from items no one remembers
Each layer tougher to remove
Hardening like a shell you have to chip away
I have to go slow or risk it all shattering!
Leaving me naked and raw
Does it matter if I pick up a new layer to place on myself
Is that any different than having a new layer thrust upon me
As an unwilling participant
Managing a delicate balance
Too heavy and I will falter
Sag against its unyielding weight
Too light and I will be exposed
Sticky and festering with nothing to protect me
My core is forgotten somewhere inside
Layers bleed down
Corrupting the center
Melding together
I wrap and unwrap myself
Making me who I am
Till I start and stop no more
Becoming someone new
- I Wrap Myself - December 23, 2022
- Happy, Happy Christmas? - December 23, 2020
- Living in Memories - September 30, 2020
Dear Amanda. I am moved. Thank-you for expressing this so painfully and beautifully.