The six-digit number became my identity,
Whether I chose it or not, willingly or unwillingly.
Time passing, like a thief, stealing in stealth.
So many years spent in oblivion, not knowing myself.
Hiding behind the woman I thought I was.
Simplistically identified by a six-digit number, my identity.
Too many wishes to count, too many times I’ve wanted to wake from this nightmare,
Praying it’s a dream… yet into a harsh reality I stare.
This, unfortunately, is my constant truth. It’s not just in my head—handle with care.
The six-digit number became my identity,
Whether I chose it or not, willingly or unwillingly.
This chaos consumes me, inner turmoil.
Constantly imagining a world that feels even slightly normal.
The battle to become who I’m meant to be
Doesn’t seem to hold weight against the person they created
The six-digit number… my identity.
Raging war inside: good vs. bad.
Attempting to face all my fears.
Deafening, racing thoughts keep my mind spinning.
I don’t want to go mad.
All my shortcomings overwhelm me on this journey to heal.
And just when I find peace, something new comes to steal it.
I can’t forget, no matter how hard I try.
My ego gets in the way… in the form of pride.
Intrusive thoughts, get out of my head.
But I can’t forget.
I am what the six-digit number says.
It seems I haven’t moved on.
I trick myself—is my sanity gone?
Forcing myself forward doesn’t feel logical.
My light is dimming… fading… growing dull.
The best gift? Another chance at redemption.
That wild energy. That rift.
I want to escape this feeling deep inside,
As I stare at myself in the mirror’s face
The six-digit number,
The only thing leaving its trace.
And then…
I’m grasping for the woman I’m meant to be.
She seems so distant.
So impossible to embrace.
