I keep trying to be
instead of being.
Looking for a place to fit into
instead of molding the world to my form,
stretching into it
like muscles within fascia,
elastic and smooth.
The box is beckoning,
so tempting with its sharp corners and restraints.
Don't you want to join the rest of us?
I see you all waving at me, smiling,
tiny figures at the end of a long tunnel
my shoulders unable to fit.
I wave back and move on,
hoping you don't resent me
or worse, pity me,
as I continue walking in the dark.