Death of the projected self

As the gap grows between the self you are and the self you thought you would be,

Your envisioned self dies the death of a million cuts,

Like a drawing incrementally erased from a white board.

You are strong where he is weak,

Grieving where he is alight with fancy,

Alive where he is dead,

Condemned to a known fate.

Mostly, you are conscious while he is not;

He is a character projected on a screen,

While you are the writer of your destiny.