Not Half of Anything

"You'll pick a side," they said with a smile, like I'd been standing still all the while. My ex said "you'll leave me for someone the opposite of me one day." A friend said "must be nice to be half-in, one foot out, an easy way." Both sides squint like they can't quite place me, keep handing me a smaller frame. Whoever I'm holding becomes the whole story — like I disappear into their name. But I didn't change when the hand in mine changed. I've been the same the whole way through — I'm not half of anything. Not a phase, not a fence, not a bridge to cross. I don't shrink to fit your guess — nothing borrowed, nothing lost. I'm not part this and part that, my love — I'm not half of anything. I'm tired of the doorway questions, "so which is it, really, deep down?" Like there's a true me hiding behind a curtain waiting for the right side of town. There's no curtain. There's no waiting. The same heart, whoever it beats for — and I won't keep folding myself in two to make it easy at your door. I didn't change when the hand in mine changed. I've been the same the whole way through — I'm not half of anything. Not a phase, not a fence, not a bridge to cross. I don't shrink to fit your guess — nothing borrowed, nothing lost. I'm not part this and part that, my love — I'm not half of anything. And to the kid who's hearing "you're confused" from people who should know — you're not the in-between of two true things, you're a whole one on your own. Don't let them cut you down the middle. Stand there, complete, and grow. I'm not half of anything. Not a phase, not a fence, not a bridge to cross. I don't shrink to fit your guess — nothing borrowed, nothing lost. I'm not part this and part that, my love — I'm not half of anything. Two doors open, one set of keys. I'm not half. I'm whole. I'm me.