Fear of speaking up, and of being seen, drives this poem. The speaker begins with a quiet wish: she wants to be less afraid to say something, to do something. Then she corrects herself. It isn't just "a part" of her that is afraid, it's "all of me," stuck between her voice and its echo, unable to become anything new.
She describes herself in two images. First she is a "wraith of empty school halls," a ghost who avoids sunlight and turns into her own shadow. Then she is the "sticky note poet," hiding behind a pen and a name so her mind can stay separate from her body. Writing gives her a voice, but also a place to hide.
The ending is the most painful part. She wants to be something, nothing, or anyone, as long as it isn't herself. The mood is lonely and raw, and the plain, fragmented lines make it feel like honest thinking written down in the moment, as the subtitle's "freewrite" suggests.