I used to think I was different

I used to think…

I used to think I was different
And the life that I lived
I inflated with meaning
by making it mine.

I thought I was special,
I was a story worth telling
and whether you’d care to listen or not
didn’t matter at all.

I used to think I was different
until the difference took over
and it became me
No more a knowable story
I thoroughly felt I was true:
every sense of victory or shame
each time this body stood apart from others
reconfirmed me I was not the same

Gotten used to the difference
I felt truely distorted
maturing now meant
to straighten my back
to grow stronger and colder
to be conscious, decisive,
to let go to improve
in protecting what differed
me from you

None of that worked

The story of me brought no other solution
than the fleeting joy
that came from escaping it

When my ship finally stranded
I cried me a sea and I sailed it
as there was no longer a thought
that could set me apart
from the sailing itself

And it had always been as simple as that:
all I ever did before
was being one with you
while sharing the difference
that couldn’t hurt me
and that needs no protection
but I just didn’t see

I used to think I was different

Now I am the same