After I finally speak, one of the women remarks
that most of the details I shared were about him

and that I wasn’t speaking much from my “I,”
which I think is a rude and boring thing to say.

Our therapist says that women are socialized
to be supporting characters, not protagonists.

But that’s not my problem. My “I” doesn’t act
in a movie or play. I speak and sing and splinter

and try again from the quicksand of my agency:
I went through a lot of shit that was out of my control.

What I don’t say is: I used to have an addressee.
And it took all I had just to turn from “you” to “he.”