Forgetting Who I Am

The other day, I forgot who I was; I forgot how to be me.
The other day, she told me I changed, that I wasn't who I used to be.
My friend said she didn't know me-she said that I wasn't the same.
I wonder what"the same" is.who used to own my name?
I wanted to remain her friend, even if I'd be throwing myself away.
I went to the cliff in my soul and dropped into the gray.
She had a choice of who to choose;
She chose the"me" who stood in my old shoes.
The other me disappeared and forgot what my friend stole.
She stole the essence of my being; she stole my soul.
She stole my soul when she chose the me who wasn't I.
I wonder if I chose the right me. Why?
I try not to think that she doesn't like the real me anymore.
I try not to believe that I have entered a war-
A war within myself that was born from hate,
Hate from our friendship. Is it too late?
Is it possible I began to hate her, that she has become strange?
For choosing the wrong me, for making me change?
Did I have a choice in the matter of who got to live,
Did I get to choose which me to give?
Is it possible I got to choose whether I would give a damn-
Or am I just forgetting who I am?

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