Author's Note: I thought it was about time I came up with another one of these little poems, lest you forget this 'story' exists, or think I have forgotten about it. I wanted to do a Derek chapter next really, as I think his perspective is necessary to fit in with Addison's and Mark's, but I don't feel I really get Derek (Meredith over Addison – why? Is the man mad?) so I'm going to hang fire on that one until I'm a little more sure of myself. I would love to know what you think of this one though. It was quite challenging to write, as who can guess what's in the inner workings of Cristina's mind, but it was fun to have a stab at it. By the way, my Grey's knowledge is pre season four, and therefore miles away from season five, and I understand there's some new army doctor guy on the scene, but rather than hazard a guess at anything, please assume this poem to be post season three.

Disclaimer: As before

I am Cristina Yang

I am a member of the Dead Dads Club,

And always will be.

I am still the nine year old girl who doesn't know how to live in a world where her Dad doesn't.

I am my mother, and her expectations,

Which I will never realise.

I am my father's expectations,

Which I try to fulfil every day.

I am years of excellence,

From my high school chemistry lab, to College, to Med School.

I am a surgeon, a damn good one.

And I am the surgeon I am going to be,

The best one.

I am one of "Bailey's interns".

I am Meredith, and George, and Izzie, and Alex.

Especially I am Meredith.

I am her person, and she is mine.

I am her sister, and she is mine.

I am Colin Marlowe,

And a history I had long forgotten about.

I am every shade of nail varnish I used to drive him away.

I am Preston Burke.

I am the journey from a starry eyed intern to the altar

That he led me on. That I led him on.

I am a clinic, and a form, and a decision that was taken out of my hands.

I am a gunshot.

And a fear that doesn't really leave me.

Fear of what happens to me if he isn't okay, and fear of what happens to me if he is.

I am a running web stitch and a decannulated heart.

I am a bank robbery that I still don't know whose idea it was.

I am a robot.

But, somewhere inside me, I am the shred of humanity that I found.

I am the long, long walk to the Chief's office, leaving a trail of blood behind me.

I am a wedding, and not a small one at City Hall.

I am a long white gown, and wedding cakes, and three bridesmaids.

I am a room full of people,

And the vows I scrubbed off my hand.

I am the crushing claustrophobia that I found myself in.

And I am the crushing agoraphobia when I was free.

I am free.

I am free.

And I hate it.