Are we dead yet

There are 3 different versions of me

Two of them are strangers, their feet have sunken into the earth. They are the ones I present to the people I love because they can hold conversation and make me look sophisticated, educated even.

The third version is the one holding onto a balloon full of helium, she’s never known balance yet I let her make all of the decisions. I think I feel most comfortable when she’s in control because I favor chaos over stability.

Gravity keeps me from floating away, my two parts pulling against the one who wants to let go of the life I have here, leaving behind the idea that I have to be something to be someone.

Only strangers will ever know me because nobody wants to believe the person they love is trying to escape the reality everybody else is clinging onto.

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