Living in a shell

I'm not living the best days of my life. You might not hear from me for a decade. I don't know what do you think of me in these days, but the truth is I'm not living the best days of my life. Since I was 18 or even younger. I wore some other man's shell and it's never fitted. I'm carrying the damn shell and it hurts. Through years and years it scratches my sole. I willingly want to put the shell done. It's about almost two years of taking that desire with me all around. But there is always some concerns. I'm sick and tired of being this other person. I don't know why I'm wearing his clothes and have his schedule and doing his engineering stuff. The stuff that I really hate. I want to put off his shell and feel free. He cannot care about the music the way I do. He cannot dance 5 or 6 hours a day, he does not have that time for such a thing. He can not write a poem and he is not that sensitive. He has a good relationship with a machine, named computer. He understands this things architectures and he can enjoy dealing with them. He even can manage to write something called program for this sole-less machine. In a way he gives it a sole. He is able to spend hours and hours on a sit, solid. Reading, and reading and writing and learning about this machine. While I want to dance, to sing, to have movement and use all parts of my body in a way that I could feel them. I want to feel the unknown part of me in my throat and abdomen. To fill them with air and push the air out. when I'm not aware of me physically I feel dead. His clothes are not related to how he feels, he simply wears something to get to work. Well at least this one matches with my right now feelings. I really don't know how many more days I would be able to carry the shell. I wish I could find a way out.