Who Am I Without You...

Eighteen, almost nineteen years, Is a long time to live for someone else.

Living always in her shadow, Never for myself.

I was her mirror Her other half Always cleaning up the aftermath.

I wore it like a badge of honor, “This is my chosen path.”

But a passion that once burned bright Now it was simply burnt out.

“Who am I without this job? Without this struggle and strife?” These are the questions I’d ask myself While she fought a beast inside.

Who am I, on my own? Without her consuming my life? Who am I when I’m not by her side, When I take my own life into account?

I have vague answers. Surface level responses.

“I like writing, journaling too! A cup of coffee to boot. I’d like to learn the ukulele, play a song or two. Somehow I’m left handed, even though everyone else is right. And I’d like nice handwriting, if only I had the time.”

But that didn’t feel like much. That wasn’t the essence of me. Who I was had always been defined By fighting great tragedy.

A beam of light, A ray of hope, Something to cling onto.

So I ask myself once more. Who am I without you?