Choices

I didn’t choose to be like this.
Do you think if I could choose I’d be like this?
Vomiting flowers like blood or the other way around
not knowing what hurts more?
Aware each time I swallow my throat is going to remind me
it could be the last?
Do you really believe that out of everything I would choose to be this dysfunctional?
Not being able to accept love without paying a toll of self-hatred,
constantly fearing to be left behind by my equals,
assuming I have already been left behind by everyone else.
Do you still think this is a choice to make?
To be rejected, to be a rejection of your former self,
to feel I’m a fraud in every step I take
no matter how hard I try or fight or let it go,
always that background screaming of childhood pain.
To construct yourself against everything you suffer to,
instead of just… growing out of the happiness ponds along the way.
To have that sensation of dirty dust on the fingertips
and everything I touch being irremediably stained.
Have you ever felt you’ve lost yourself?
More so,
Have you ever had to dig your own grave, bury yourself,
say a little prayer,
and keep going on like nothing happened?
Like you don’t know your corpse is underground in the backyard of your mind?
How can you still say I choose to be like this?
I did what I could, what was left for me to do,
I just did
and it never sufficed
it was never enough
and no matter what that feeling won’t go away
a limb I can’t tear away.
I should’ve just torn myself away,
when I had the chance.
I’ll tell you what I chose.
I chose to be a bad student at high school,
I chose not to talk about feelings,
I chose I had to be a boy,
I chose to lose myself in videogames so as not to live through all the pain,
I chose to hide,
I chose to push them away,
I chose to not let myself grow and become an atrophy of expectations,
I chose I would never speak of it again.
And it failed, it all failed,
except the feeling that guided all those decisions,
and now every path I take is tainted by it,
flooded by it.
I should tell you to walk a mile in my shoes
but truth is I’ve been barefooted for far too long
and I don’t really want you to understand.
Excuse me, I’m choosing not to talk
anymore.