She Could’ve Been Me
Grieving the girl I was supposed to become
There was a time I smiled without thinking,
a time I laughed without hearing the echo crack.
I used to dream in full color,
before life made everything look like survival.
I used to believe in myself,
not the version I pretend to be now,
but the real me.
The one who lit up rooms without even trying,
who spoke before second-guessing,
who trusted her voice before anyone could twist it.
I look in the mirror and barely see her.
Her eyes used to be soft,
now they look like glass,
held together by quiet panic and too many almosts.
I lost her somewhere between trying to be enough,
and realizing I never would be.
Not for them,
not for the world,
not even for me.
Some days I swear I feel her,
like a shadow trailing my steps,
like a whisper caught in my throat.
But she never stays long.
She was softer,
braver,
lighter,
and I miss her in ways I can't explain,
not out loud anyway.
I carry her grief like it’s mine,
because maybe it is.
Because maybe she could’ve been me,
if life hadn’t broken me down first.
I didn’t grow into myself, I disappeared inside her.
About the Creator
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Keep reading
More stories from Miss. Anonymous and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (1)
This made me feel seen in a way I didn’t expect. The way you describe the quiet fading of a former self — the softness, the light — it’s something I think a lot of us carry but can’t always put into words. “I didn’t grow into myself, I disappeared inside her” is one of the most heartbreaking lines I’ve ever read. Thank you for being so honest. You put language to a feeling I’ve been struggling to name.