If I Were You
Hate me.
That’s okay.
If I were you,
I probably would too.
Because when you stack us side by side,
you vanish.
A shadow in the background
trying to mimic fire,
but never brave enough
to hold the heat.
You never built anything.
Not from scratch.
Not from pain.
Not from silence.
You just waited for a spotlight
and called that purpose.
You danced.
And when they threw one’s,
you called it praise.
But applause isn’t always admiration.
Sometimes it’s just noise
from people watching a slow collapse.
You dared to be seen —
but never to become.
You put yourself on display
but never stood for anything real.
I would hate me too
if I looked in the mirror
and saw a life untouched by growth,
a body that performed
but never transformed.
So hate me.
Let it keep you warm
in the cold space I left behind.
Because deep down,
you don’t hate me for what I did.
You hate me
because I became
everything
you were too scared
to try.
-Violet Hernandez
