Me? - By Angelica Späth

Written By: Angelica Späth

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Angelica Späth gracefully navigates the complexities of identity and self-perception in her poignant poem "Me?" submitted to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This piece, representing the category of Poetry, delves into the introspective journey of self-discovery and the emotional turbulence that accompanies it. Späth's work captures the essence of a universal struggle with authenticity and acceptance, offering readers a deeply personal yet relatable narrative.

About the Work

"Me?" by Angelica Späth is a raw and evocative exploration of self-doubt and the perennial quest for identity. The poem's candid and introspective tone invites readers into an intimate dialogue with the self, questioning societal perceptions and personal worth. Through vivid imagery and a stream-of-consciousness style, Späth articulates the weight of emotional turmoil and the desire for self-love, encouraging reflection and empathy.

Me?

Original Submission by Angelica Späth

Me?

Always the lover, never the loved.

Still?

From years past?

Well, maybe not.

Maybe I’m just dramatic,

or maybe I’ve lost my mind.

Where is my mind?

Is it swimming way out in the water?

But hey, you look like you feel the same way-

Like you could run away.

Not far, though-just in reach of comfort.

Maybe just over the fence,

along Scott Street,

feeling like a stranger.

You wonder:

Do they feel ashamed

when they hear your name?

Besides that, maybe you don’t wanna be you?

You don’t wanna be you anymore.

But be honest:

Could it be worse?

How about a reason

to be a woman?

Don’t you just wanna be a woman?

Maybe you’re just a crack baby.

You don’t know what you want.

But you know that you had it once.

Do you know what you want?

Figure it out!

Think, come on!

What do you need?

What do you want?

Come on!

Just say it, feel it.

You know it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Can’t think of it.

Stupid!

Always an option, never the chosen.

Let down gently, killed.

You still cry, cry, cry.

But dying is such a waste of time-

just find peace of mind.

(Ha! Easier said than done.)

I know life is unfair,

but all you can do is kill yourself or get over it.

You can’t sleep through the tears anymore;

you get lost in the ether.

Lying on your bed, staring, blinking, thinking…

doing anything but sleeping.

Then it’s morning.

And you have school.

And you have people.

And you have words.

School, people, words, voice, body, shame…

Again.

Again.

Again.

I don’t wanna live anymore.

I don’t wanna give you nothing,

’cause you never give me nothing back.

Why can’t you be good for something?

Please.

To whoever reads this:

Have I told you I’m not doing well?

And like the ribbons in your hair,

my stomach is in knots.

I care, I care, I care-

like perfume you wear,

I linger all the time,

watching, hidden in plain sight.

Letting the “me” do all the work while I retreat.

You got the one thing that I want…

Always below, never above.

I thought I figured out how to will myself out of existence;

I hoped that it wouldn’t hurt.

It almost worked.

And everyone lies right to your face here.

I just wish that I could see what they see about me.

Maybe I can be better? Liked? Change?

I guess it could be worse…

But I hope you know

that there, that’s not me.

I’m not here.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This is happening.

Wait.

It’s only the Fourth of July.

And what could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone.

Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie

is the most effective way to deal with things you have no control over.

Sometimes you attempt to gather up the constant reminders of loneliness; sometimes you just hope

that for just one second you could feel

the warmth of equally returned love.

Alas, sadness never stops writing.

So take a notebook everywhere.

Let envy consume you-

can you feel it,

those teeth gnawing at your organs?

Write it down.

Make sure everyone around you is happy,

but never comfort yourself.

You don’t deserve it.

You don’t deserve anything nice.

It’s never about you,

but everything is your fault.

And talk down to yourself as much as possible:

My life is shit because I deserve it, right?

You can’t cry now.

Your eyes are dry.

You feel nothing.

Watch yourself as your friends become strangers,

as things that you once enjoyed become things you hate;

watch as you take the back seat to your own life.

Don’t fight it.

Drown your feelings in blades.

Drown in people, in smoke, and honey.

Make friends with the paragraphs on your arms and legs;

you don’t need love to drive away your loneliness-

you just need to learn how to talk to it.

Oh, and about that tumor of temptation,

right in the middle of your mind-

it won’t go away.

It will always be there,

growing, malignant.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

Just a hit-you’ll be fine.

Just a sip.

Just a taste.

Just a cut.

Come on.

Just one.

Please, I need this.

I really need this.

You have to shove that feeling further down,

where guilt sits,

in the curves of your intestine.

Let it sit there

until you throw up all of the feelings.

Everything falls out in ugly chunks of incoherent thought.

Black lumps of hate come along, too.

Learn to hide.

Cover up.

But show yourself.

Well, show your skin.

Boys like that.

Boys, look at that.

Show your stomach,

your boobs,

your shoulders.

Let them touch you there-

boys like that.

Boys, look at that.

You just wanna be “looked at.”

(Don’t get confused with “seen.”)

Always trying, never enough.

Maybe I lost my mind-

no one noticed.

It’s getting old being all alone.

No one tried to read my eyes.

You suck!

How should I begin this?

You’re playing with my mind.

Did she ever make me smile?

Did she ever make me cry?

Do the wires in my mind get sewn together,

rubbed and severed by the heat?

Do you notice how long I could stare into her picture

and wish she were here?

I feel like I’m afraid of the truth.

How the fuck am I supposed to deal with losing you?

So what’s the point of talking since you’re gone?

I’m lying to myself.

You were my best friend.

Please tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to deal with losing you.

I live a life I didn’t choose,

and it hurts like brand new shoes.

End it someday-

what’s that sound?

The fake plastic earth.

It wears me out.

It wears me out-

fake, plastic people.

Fake, plastic me.

Stop.

My feet in the air and my head on the ground.

I try this trick and spin it.

My head collapses.

Where is my mind?

Questions rattle around in my skull.

Even after asking myself,

and me, and I.

Where is my mind?

I still can’t tell my elbow from my shoulder,

or my hand from your hand,

even my leg from your leg.

Sometimes I can’t even tell if the face is my face or I face or your face or me face or we face?

But I suppose questions are good,

because poems are questions,

and sadness never stops writing.

I’m Sadness, I never stop writing.

But will I ever be written?

No.

But that’s okay,

because I deserve nothing and everything,

And I’m fake,

I’m a liar,

I’m ugly,

I’m different,

I’m nothing.

I’m learning, though.

I’m learning how to love me,

I’m learning how to love how I me.

It’s slow.

I’m getting there.

I still have questions though,

Can someone tell me the answers?

Or should I fail?

(And learn)

Always the poet, never the poem.

Is this me?

Who is me?

How is me?

Me?

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, serves as a prestigious platform for writers worldwide to showcase their literary talents. This esteemed competition celebrates the art of storytelling and poetic expression, providing participants with an opportunity to share their unique voices and perspectives with a global audience.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Angelica Späth for sharing her profound poem "Me?" with us and the wider literary community. Her participation in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 enriches the dialogue around identity and emotion. We look forward to witnessing more of her thought-provoking work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.