I can't move

"What does rebirth mean to you"

 "What is Rebirth to me?" This is a question I struggle to answer a lot of the time. I know what it's like for others cause I've seen it and learnt it, and even helped some people though their own. I know that I am currently living through a Rebirth, but it's different. I know who I was, who I am, and who I want to be, and that's it. They said the truth would set me free but honestly knowing the truth makes me realise just how trapped I really am. I can't move

I've been living in my own cocoon for years. There have been times when I could really show my wings, but God forbid I actually fly. It's like there are people who I know can't ever see my wings and all I can ever do is think about, until my only friends, my only enemy, my only past time, my only poison, are thoughts. I think about it everyday and it hurts knowing what I could do, but I can't move.

I watch people grow old everyday, I used to find it beautiful, now I'm just jealous. Where's my happy ending? Why am I stuck here? When can I finally fly? I know the answers, but asking keeps me sane. Others aren't trapped like me, and yet I used to be the gifted among them. They always thought I would soar the highest. Everyone always asks "what happened" and those same people are why I'm here. It seems silly for them to think a cocoon can still fly, but some days I can't help but believe them, and watch as everyone I'm not flies their heart out, but I can't move.

The person in the mirror grows despite my tardiness, I almost thought it was me, but it's not stuck like me. It grows more and more unrecognisable as the days turn to years with false wings spreading to blend in with everyone else, and I can't help but feel confused and disgusted. It doesn't scare me because it's ugly, it scares me because it's not me. It scares me because the anomaly that was once my twin roams free, but I can't move.

I know better days exist, and I know there are people just like me all around filling the world. I see some of them celebrate their freedom, I see some bond over their bondage, others I'd rather not say. Knowing of better days should make me happy, but it doesn't and it never did. It only fuels my hope, but I learned the difference between hope and happiness a long time ago. Better days will surely come, but everyday I still ask myself 'Is it all worth the wait?' I wish I knew the answer, but if I did I wouldn't need hope to keep my alive now would I. Every moment is repetitive and suffocating, and I never imagined as a caterpillar that I would wait so long to spread my wings, but as long as my spark of hope still burns, I have nothing less to lose, and all the freedom to gain. I remember this everyday and pray for just a small miracle in my future, but some days, some hard, cruel days, I can't help but remember the tragedy of my present: I can't move.