In a sea of problems
...
Sometimes
It seeems
Like I’m the only one
Trying to swim

I binge WAYYYYYY too much

During my obsession with strawberries
I ate a couple boxes a week
For a solid
Month
Or few

During by obsession with reading
Every ounce of my
Free time was
Devoted
To
Scouring
At least several
A week

During my obsession with drawing
The number of printer paper
Packages I ran through
Cannot be counted
And this lasted
Several years
Mind you

During by obsession with Chinese cuisine
I constantly pestered my family
To go there
On our weekly
Outings
For a solid
Couple years

During my obsession with vanilla covered chocolate popsicles
I ate one
Every day
For
At least
A month

During my obsession with pogo stick jumping

During my obsession with chocolate chip cookies

During my obsession with Asian light novels

During my obsession with strawberry black forest cake from that specific bakery

During my-

During my-

During-

Dur-

Yup.

It’s confirmed.

I
Am
A
Binger

At a certain
point in our lives
There's no more
"free time"
The closest thing
would be
periods
of
inactivity
procrastination
Or only long term deadlines
remaining
We may
have "breaks"
But even if it takes a
stop
...
We're still on the train
of life
Chugging away

Unique
...
the meaning of my name

Without realizing
I had spun a cocoon
of desires
around that one fact

The name,
my parents gave me,
either on a whim
or because of its beauty
or meaning
or some other
casual reason
...
I seem to have taken to heart
...
Because I truly,
while knowing
I'm not the only one
...
I truly
want to be
Different
...
In my heart
...
Screaming out
in some of my poetry
My inner thoughts

I want to be different
I want to be special
I want to stand out
...
A little girl's dream
of being
a princess...
superhero-
sorceress-
power ranger-
...
...
...
...
Now,
as I'm growing older

I continue to harbor
the hope
in my heart

But rather,
than be
that young girl
chosen
to go to Narnia
or Hogwarts
or
Wherever else
...
I want to carve out
my little niche
in the world
...
Where I can be me

It's the start of the school
year and everyone's
milling about
socializing

Water particles
Milling about
forming
and breaking
hydrogen bonds

There's a group of
new kids,
awkwardly standing
off to the side

A large crystal
of salt
is dumped among
the
water

Some of the old kids
start milling
over pulling
new kids
into
their friend
groups

The water starts
bonding with
individual
ions of salt
positive with negative
negative with positive
pulling them
away
to form
bonds

Eventually all the
new kids are
incorporated into
friend groups

The lattice of salt
is broken apart
...
And all the individual ions
are surrounded
by
new
friends
Known as H2O

My ignorance is astounding
Yet,
It is of my own choice
Laziness
...
Exactly the cause of my diffidence
If one is to be confident
They must believe in themselves

And in order to do so
They must deserve it
By feeling they
Deserve it
Through their actions though,
I suppose,
That show they deserve it
...
Oh la, I’m simply leading myself in circles

But the main point is
If I want to be condfident
Only I can make myself feel
I deserve it

From the moment
I could hear my grandfathers voice
Telling me legends and fables from his religion

To the time
My dad would
Make up tales
Of a pair of brothers
Just to get me to sit still
When my parents in a rare moment,
didn’t have
A book readily available

From the moment I was able
To hold a novel and breeze thought
Fluently with ease
After my parent’s ardorous task
Of getting me to practice

The days when my
Mind spent less time in the real
World and more time captivated
By those experiencing what I had not
But now, though their words, had

To today
Where my almost every
Free waking moment is spent
Either absorbing words
Of some romantic
Or fantastical story
Or,
Writing.
...
So basically...

Books
Stories
Novels
Words
...
This poem conveys it all
I don’t even have to say
What an integral part
Of me
They
Are

Now whenever I think back
to that feeling which has
almost completely been erased from my memory
I wonder

Was the feeling
that he was there waiting for me
that any moment I’d be in his grip
in his claws

I’d be helpless
alone

That was the worst part
alone
no one else
even if there were, they weren’t any better off

Just me
in a solitary
suspended
state of terrified numbness
so caught up in the moment

Then there was no time
to think logically
and see it for what it was

As I can do now
But
as much as I am relieved to be freed from the dreadful mindless panic
There is a part of me that feels it’s loss

I can write
line upon line of flowery attractiveness

I can write
ferocious strokes of blood thirsty madness

I can write
obsession to the point where it’s painful

I can write
tears and melancholy in a whirlwind of pain

I can write
a fountain of pure undulated joy or pleasure

I can write
at the epic ****** of desperation with nowhere to turn

I can write
dark deep emotions in the depths of a soul

I can write
sparkling emotions, beautiful to the point of being blinding

But, despite it all
at the end of the day
It doesn’t change that
I am terribly, horribly, completely inexperienced
with my imagination keeping me afloat

I’d rather honestly
Spill my feelings
With my words
Than,
Rely on
Ambiguous actions

How do you speak
When you spend every minute
Scrutinizing
Every word
You are
Or will
Say
Even in front of your friends?

I turned off
The poetry hose
For a short while
When I noticed
It was getting
Contaminated
By
A substance known as
“Social insecurity”
Hey,
...
Have you ever been poisoned by it?

She told me she was tired
About,
How her mom compared
Her to every other
Kid out there
Doing more
Doing better
About,
How sports five days a week
School
And clubs to boot
Was a bit much
Personally, I somewhat know what she means
But,
Being somewhat past
That stage myself
I don’t know what to say

She tells me
About her sleep deprivation
Iron deficiency
Sleepwalking
Lack of hunger
Problems
Problems
Problems
With which I could relate
Not one single bit
I listened
But I didn’t say much
Soon enough though
I
Just
Stopped

She told me about
Her latest crush
In her constant
Stream
Since seventh grade
Voice
Partially whiny
Partially one the verge
Of tears
I really couldn’t relate
Much
But,
It was kinda interesting
Plus I valued her
Friendship
A certain degree
So I listened
And gave comfort
Until in came someone
Who could do it better

We’re all self obsessed
To a certain degree

It really depends
How interested we are
How much we care about the person
How caring we are
In general
Many factors
...
But sometimes,
Especially with a problem
That we can’t fix
For them
Or even help
...
It can be really hard
To have empathy

A rather melancholic scent
Enters its way
Into my nostrils
Papers
Loads of them
Straight from the printer
The ruffling
The shuffling
They studying

Episodes of
Phineas and Ferb
Strawberries
And chocolate chip cookies
Unbrushed hair
Thrown in pigtails
Curled up on a couch
My childhood
Blown away in the breeze

She insisted he had a crush
On me
He insisted he did
Not
I
Kept my nose
In my book

Come one, come all!
And welcome
To the shield shop!

Here, we supply anything
And everything
You need
For a custom made
Shield

Now, this isn’t your typical
Iron or bronze,
No,
the shields here are much
Sturdier
And not for physical
Affronts

We could provide you
A block of wood
For dense ness
Thoroughly not
Understanding
Social cues
Good,
For keeping away
Verbal bullies
Or,
Romantic attention

A shard of ice for coolness
Unaffected
Untouched
Abve the crowd
Keeping your cool to the point
That no one approaches you
No one reads you
Makes you seem impenetrable

A flame for blazing confidence
Attracts people
But also scares them away
So they,
Maintain a distance
From your
Vulnerabilities
Whose existence
They may not be aware of

A kitten for innocence
Either,
Giving others the desire
To protect you
Or they just pass you by

We have all these
And so much more!
So why don’t you come and
See
Which one works for
You!

One day I’ll let free
The me
That only my family knows

One day I’ll allow myself to babble
Without feeling
Self conscious or insecure

One day I’ll allow myself to run
As hard
And fast as I can
Without worrying about looking like a fool

One day I’ll sing
(More like scream)
At the the top of my lungs
Chasing birds off of rooftops

One day I’ll twirl
Round and round and round
Till I drop

One Day,
I’ll meet someone
Who can handle
My bedazzle

You know,
The frustrating thing
Is that almost all
The good poetry
Comes to me
In the night

I try to sleep
As newer and newer
Pieces
Loudly
DING ****!
The doorbell in my mind

Then, of course
My body is inclined to roll over
And my hands are forced to
Pick up my phone
And
Begin typing
...
Argh!
What must I do to sleep!?

I’ve discvoered
A strange pastime of mine
I like to look for flaws
Little things I am ashamed of
Then use poetry
To slowly unravel them
Bit by bit
Like the
Small intestine
We unraveled in our seventh
Grade fetal
Pig disection
Just like that
The ugly flaws
Are unraveled bit by bit
Left in all their original
Blunt grotesque
Glory
In my mind
To be analyzed
And on paper
-or a screen I suppose
Embeleshed,
Into something
Beautified and attractive
But,
Still honest despite
Holding back
To an extent
...
Meanwhile,
In my mind
The flaws are
Picked apart
With little probes

Occasionally,
A finite solution
And method to
Get rid of the
Flaw
Placed on
My never ending
Bucket list

But,
More often than not-
...
ERROR
NO SOLUTION
REQUIRES FURTHER STUDY

I just realized
As I was shuffling
Through my poems
A majority of
My poetry
Seems
To be
A
Pocket
For my
Insecurities

Some people like my poetry
And
when I realize that
it's like a little
shock
to my system
...
Because,
it's literally my thoughts

Slightly filtered?
Yes

Extra line breaks
to gain the
impression
I require?
Yes

But, it's still basically

my thoughts
And people seem to
actually find
it
i n t e r e s t i n g
...
Although,
this is surely
the case with
many poets
If
not all
..
I'm sure,
plenty
of the ones I read

...

It's really
amazing

How we are able
to appreciate
each other's
thoughts
despite

Similarities
...
and
differences

One thing
I love about this
site
is that
it's free
...
You're free
to write as you please
...
You're free
to comment as you please
...
There's plenty of room
for self introspection
..
And everyone here is either
like minded
or has an interesting
new
perspective to
contribute

When someone praises me
I'm like a deer
under headlights
Of course I'm delighted
beaming,
even
But I really don't know-
how to respond
...
Do I brush it off?
Act like it's
not a big deal
whether or not
it really is
And move on
to another
subject?
...
Do I just stay quiet
Look down shyly,
and smile?
Or just let the conversation
pass me by?
...
Do I adamantly
reject it?
Refuse, and insist
to the point
that the person
before me
ends up
fighting with me
about
it?
...
Do I roll with it,
faking non-existent
confidence?
Owning up to it,
sometimes
in a joking manner?
...
Do I immediately
switch the topic
to praising
the one
who praised me?
Or have them talk
about themselves
to turn
the
attention from me?
...
Or, do I just smile
large and wide
and thank
the person?
...
I don't know
and it irritates me
that I can even have trouble
with something
as lovely
as a compliment
...
It's not
negative
hurtful
or even
a criticism
...
So why does it
bother me?
...
Maybe
...
I care too much
about what others
think of
me

Our task in class
was
to draw really
depressed people
for a competition
...
I wanted to draw
a really
really
sad
child
...
Chubby
drooping cheeks
Soft
flawless skin

She said no
...
...
...
Instead,
I get to draw
an old person
...
which is fine
But,
...
the WRINKLES
HOW am I to draw
perfectly
EVERY SINGLE
LITTLE
WRINKLE?!
And especially
a value scale
of shading
as well
while
ACCOUNTING
FOR EVERY WRINKLE?!
...
See,
the issue
isn't that
I am unwilling to draw
BUT
But
...
I, consider myself
at big picture person
NOT as much detail oriented

I, consider myself
someone
who relies
at least half
if not more on
creativity
NOT to say
that I lack
technical skill

BUT,
my strong suit
would be
the idea

Now,
she's challenging me
by giving me a simple idea
And having the key portion
be the
execution
...
According to my mom
it's a good thing
...
...
And I agree too,
but...
...
Ugh,
I suppose I'd better go draw

When a person is
Caught off guard
Is their natural
Reaction
Fight
Or flight
...
Or freeze?

Sometimes,
One can play it innocent
Diffident
Flight
Backing off
Easily

Other times
One could play it cool
There’s nothing
Wrong with what I’m doing
And I ain’t moving gurl

Then, there’s the freeze
Just stop
Stutter
Or don’t even speak
Um’s and
Uhhh’s
Leading
The other
To come to their
Own conclusion
...
So, which one do you do
Flight
Or fight
...
Or freeze?

Today my friend told me
I was acting strange
I gave her the
excuse
of a sugar high
But really,
...
I was just being
myself

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Alas!
I've forgotten the rest of the poem
Because I was thinking about
You

Sometimes....
I bemoan the negatives
of something
Just
to feel good about the positive
...
And then
I almost
hate myself
for it

I'm not saying
that this is how it is
But,
In all my years of school
the one thing I've been taught
Again
and
Again
...
is the American Revolutionary war

Which makes sense
since,
it was technically the official formation
of the country I currently live in

But really,
In 10th grade
I'm having deja-vu back
to fourth grade
when we even had a musical
about it
(I was student #2 by the way)

And now
we have the Broadway musical Alexander Hamilton
which,
I am TOTALLY a fan of
Despite
the numerous reoccurring themes
I've had stuck in my face
enough to remember
for the
rest
of
my
lifeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
...
Okaaay,
So, Revolutionary War:
...
...
...
AftertheFrenchandIndianwarBritianwasindebtsothey­triedtaxingthecollonieswhichthecolloniesweretotallyagainst.Miscom­munication(allthewayacrossthesea)alongwithotherthingsincludingphr­asessuchas"notaxationwithoutrepresentation"werethrownaround.Event­uallyitjustblewupintotheactualwarwhichAmericaendedupwinningdespit­eBritain'ssuperiorarmyandinthenAmericawasleftwithamessofstatestan­ddisagreeablefoundingfatherstocometoaconsensusandfiguresomethingo­ut.

Okay, I don't know if you actually
got anything from that
but basically
it was a rushed (sort of) summaryish
of the American Revolutionary war
...
ish.

Well, I mean I've only learned
about it from one side

Anyway, by now I almost know the facts
we learn in school here
as well
as the back of my hand
...
which I don't know very well by the way
why do people even use that?

Anyway, it's not completely old material
that we're learning
because
now,
there's analyzing too

Just today we analyzed the differences
between
Federalists
and Anti-federalists
...
Okay,
you probably don't want the
nitty-gritty details
...
And that concludes my
(Strange)
tirade/(I can't really call it a tirade because it wasn't angry
so maybe narration?)
About history class
...
Hope this quirky
piece of writing
gave you a few smiles!

(Or if not confusion works too.)

The little children stand squished together
in a tight enclosed space
Straight
uniform
But...
squirmy
Unable to be completely still

A solid phase

Then, they start to squirm some more
as their boredom takes over
wriggle
shake
some start coming off
the tightly knit shape
More and more
lose
and open spaces
Until its a shapeless mass of kids
Each with ample space

Liquid phase

Then they get tired of standing around
Some start playing tag
Running about
leaving
wandering
Dispersed
Until finally,
...
The once tightly knit
figure
is simply
a few random kids
zooming around
here and there

Gas phase

Am I...
cold?

I didn't cry when my grandpa died
Yes, I'd only seen him several times

Long visits across the ocean
during the summer
Apparently,
he spent a lot of time with me
at my birth

But...

I didn't cry
I was more concerned with giving my dad
support
...
It makes sense I guess

In third grade
I joined my school band
I was percussion,
the only one in my school
Lugging around my giant drum kit
I was different
But,
still an essential part of the band

Now, fast forward to seventh grade
I joined my school field hockey team
I was the goalie
The only one on my team
Lugging around my giant bag of gear
I was different
But,
still an essential part of the team

These parallels stick out to me
Clearly, it's a statement

I desperately crave that team
group
sense of belonging

Yet,
at the same time
...
I want that independence
I want to be different
I want my own little niche
...
It's amazing how much poetry
can give you an insight
into yourself

Sometimes,
I feel like a little ant
Scrambling
To find purchase on the rock
Known as my mind

In preschool it was drawing
In elementary school it was reading
In seventh grade it was anime
In eighth grade it was Manga
In freshman year it was Asian light novels
Now,
It’s poetry
...
What will it be next???

I look at novels
And I base my life off of it
...
Often has me feeling disappointed
...
Then I wonder,
Is it the excitement,
Or the predictability?
The adventures
Or the security?
That everything’s going to be alright
...
I find
I don’t really know
...
But I still appreciate my life
I love it
I really do
Because,
Wouldn’t a perfect life
Be boring?

I’ve always thought
That an ideal relationship
Not nessesarily romantic,
Must have
A balance
Of give
And take
...
But what if that balance always tips?

Largely white
except splotches
of color
of personality
binders
papers
posters
paper weights
Black
the chair
The screens
of the electronic appliances
Gray,
for a more professional feel
with touches of beige
the carpet
the outlets
Florescent lights
shockingly white
shockingly bright
...
Personalized
Yet,
uniform
...
Comfortable
yet
professional
...
...
...
Is my teacher's desk

I’m so lucky
I’ve heard that
And there are times
It doesn’t need to be said
But I guess what I really
Need to think about
Is
How can I help others be lucky too?

In first grade
My mom
Made me read
A
Magic Treehouse book
Someone had bought me as a present

Then came my 6+ years long obsession
With fantasy

In third grade
My mom made me read
Red Pyramid
Recommended by my girl scout
Troop leader

Thus started my 5+ year obsession
With mythology

In seventh grade
My mom signed me up
For a field hockey goalie camp
She heard about
From a colleague

This started my 4 year venture
Into being a field hockey goalie

Somehow she always tells me
I never listen
She forces me
And I fall in love

This cycle has repeated

So much

When will I learn from my mistakes?
Will I ever?
When will I be able to find these things for myself?
Will I then be truly independent?

In second grade I got
an honorable mention
In the piano state

For those of you who don’t know
This competition has a first place,
I’ve forgotten the name
Runner up
And honorable mention
Below that was a 1
And a 2

I don’t know if
Only a certain number could
Be in each category
But I did know for each age level
There was certainly more than one

Either way, I was excited
Pleased

The next year,
I got a 1

The year after that,
I broke down crying
Thoroughly
Unprepared
And got a 2

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

And no that was not a mis
Type
That was really how it was

I switched piano teachers
And vowed I’d do better this time
But I spent most of my summer
Out of town
And I didn’t get the practice
I needed

The year after
I got a 1

This year,
I’m participating
Once again

And I’m tired
At the monotony of it all

But,
Can I actually
Overcome my laziness and time restrainsts and practice
The amount I need?

In hybridization
Atoms
Shuffle around electrons
In orbitals
To be able to bond
With the maximum number of electrons
Of another atoms
...
Rather like the amount of effort
She takes
To connect with you