Who am I?
Who am I?

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I have my biological mom’s hair, but where did I get these ears?
Where did I get this facial structure? Where did I get these feet?
Math and biology say that I’m a whole body and yet somehow I feel incomplete.

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I am Jealous
Jealous when I get to see my sister sit between my mom and my dad
And realize she’s the perfect combination of two complete halves
Jealous of the fact that she can go to school and make a family tree and not have to lie
And when I do it I realize I’m making a family tree that’s technically not even mine
Jealous that my sister already knows who and what she is and she didn’t even have to try
I stand in front of a mirror for hours on end and I want to cry

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I am angry
Angry when I think that this is all my biological mom’s fault
Angry that no on stopped her in time
Angry that she ruined her life so much she actually managed to damage mine
Angry when I realize that if it wasn’t for her maybe I would’ve had a normal life
Angry at myself when I then realize if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t even be alive
Never mind, scratch that, she gave birth to me but she did not keep me alive
There is only one women who deserves credit for be being alive
And her name is Yvette

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I am sad.
Sad because my biological mom treated me like a gift she couldn’t return so she gave me away
Sad because the only thing I wanted and needed her to be was mother
Sad because she was too lost in vodka and coke and profanity
I was nothing but another
Accident
Sad because she technically got me a “get out of hell free” card and she had to stay
Sad that she never tried to visit me, and I wish I knew why
She knew where I was, but every birthday, Christmas, and Fourth of July
I celebrated without her, and for a time she slipped my mind
And now that I look back I think to myself, was I not enough?

I guess I don’t know why I thought it would be me
To make my mom be the mother I needed her to be
I guess I was the same amount of importance as the last daughter and son
Because in the battle of “who’s more important”
Drugs and alcohol had won 

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I am Empty.
Empty because I don’t know who my dad is
Empty because my biological mom didn’t even know who my dad is
Empty because I have this half of me that’s out there I can’t see
Empty because I know I have more people, another “family” that are all related to me
Empty because I know all of this and I can’t control my curiosity
Empty because I had this false hope that I could save my biological mom from her grave fate
Empty because I will forever have it in my mind that I was too late

My biological mom died.
When I was first told this I started to cry
Partly because death is not a happy topic,
But mostly because the half of the tree that I belonged to,
Half of the tree that was actually visible,
Half of the tree where I clung on to the small root
In hopes that I would grow with it someday
Had disappeared and died with my mom too.

Who am I?
It’s a question I’ve been asking for years.
I am thankful.
It makes no sense because of all these dark feelings I feel
Yet I always manage to find light at the end of the tunnel.
I am thankful
Thankful that my biological mom gave me away
Even though a part of me wonders what it would be like if I would’ve stayed
Thankful that I was given two beautiful guardian angels who love me
Thankful that that even though I don’t know who I am, I now know who I want to be
Thankful for the new family I got even though it wasn’t supposed to be mine
Thankful that I have this life because my mom gave me away in time
Thankful that my new parents caught the hole in my heart before grave fate did
Thankful that because of my new parents I was able to be a kid
A teen
And soon an adult
I am Thankful that I am alive
Thankful that every day I get to strive
To be better