even when I’m alone

there is always a constant pressure to perform

there is always that nagging feeling that I am

that I am being watched



held to the standards of what is expected,

what is expected from a human being that looks like me,

that is



I felt so aware even subconsciously, even

even when I was

even when I was alone

I move my hair around,

arch and suck my body,

blink my eyes a certain way,

smile with a certain presentation,

hoping–knowing–it will instill the desired reaction

even when I was

even when I was alone

who do I live for if it is not for me?

how could I want to do anything but be alone?

for whom do I live and what I am if I live only to display a fiction for others?

to feel so aware even when

even when I am alone?


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