❝ I think I was born in the wrong context.
Wrong time period, or maybe wrong country.
Wrong town, or maybe wrong family.
I can’t say for certain where the error occurred,
But it did occur.
This life is ill-fitted.
Like a pair of hand-me-down trousers
That aren’t too large or too small,
But fit loosely in all the wrong places,
And give your legs an awkward shape.
I find myself tugging and pulling at it,
Trying to adjust it to me,
But I’ve had no such luck.
Nearly twenty years have passed in a life
That doesn’t seem cut out to be my own.
I’m beginning to believe there’s a soul
Somewhere out there
Living the life I was meant to live.
Wondering if perhaps, someone is living his.
I hope some day we meet,
Maybe even after death.
We could trade stories and imagine,
What it would’ve been like to wear pants
That weren’t ill-fitted.