You Are New

You own me, I say
As I anxiously bow to my idols
Prostrate before them in quivering fear
All of my identity rests here
The approval of others

I care so much what you think, I say
The endless questioning of what your opinion of me is
On edge and waiting for rejection
Clenched fists around all the adjectives I hope to be defined by
I cannot let go
If you see me as anything less
Surely I will die
And the paradox is
I work pretty hard
To make you think I don’t care all that much

I don’t want to look desperate, I say
Or needy
Or insecure
What could be worse
So I guess my life is a never ending competition
To be the one who cares least
Hopelessly intertwined
Apathy and insecurity
Desperation and detachment
Frantically looking to the left and right

Who am I? I ask
My identity alludes me
It is caught somewhere between
What every other person says of me
And now all I am is a hollowed out soul
With pieces of myself held in the hands of people

Mold me in your image, I say
That I may bend backwards to please you
That I may contort myself in any attempt to fill the hollowness

So silly
That I could mistake a person’s voice for yours
All the declarations
Of good
And fearfully and wonderfully made
And well pleased
All the recitations
Of justified
And adopted
And loved
And chosen
Have been drowned out by other voices

I fell prostrate before my own insecurity
And I saw how it ruined me
All the lies I repeat because I mistake them for truth
Putting faith in what screams the loudest
And lately it’s been anything but you

Let me remind you, He says
You are not an image, static and stationary
You are a living, glorious work of art
You are not what others say you are
Their thoughts cannot affect your identity
Their declarations have no power
Your record is perfect
Your hands are clean
Your deadness is alive
You are loved by me
Chosen by me
You are not the old you
You are new