What am I?

Why am I this?

Nevermind, unimportant

I'm what I am

Even if being me makes life harder

Why is love hard?

Why do people break?

Why would anyone wish to be someone else?

I know the answer

I lived that

that jealously

that pain

that insecutity

that passion

that hate

The feeling of wanting what you can't have 

It's an irrelevant, useless thing

What more can you be?

Your you.

Wether mother or child or father or worker or boss

Nothing more is in this game of life