Crystal Renger

spent too much time thinking life was a movie
in which I only existed in the background of the frame.

I protected those who never held me,
shrunk myself to fit into places that were never mine,
and kept believing that maybe I deserved little —
or nothing at all.

Until I grew used to the sad idea of living forever
in a child’s bathtub,
too small for what I don’t even know yet
if I’m allowed to become.

And when the spell broke,
there was no answer and no salvation,
only the weight of slowly returning to myself,
stumbling, unsure of where this is leading.

Maybe that’s what it is, in the end —
not the end of the journey,
but the uncertain beginning of a return
I’m still trying to reach.