I used to wonder if,
one who enjoys writing
and history
stories
and words
Is bad,
at math and science

I'm finding recently,
that it's really not true

Sure,
science may not be my strongest
subject

But I can take what is,
English
and use it to my advantage

I realized
I could make educational poetry
Funny
fun
strange
analogies
from the concepts
to the stories I love

And that way I remember them better

The world really is a small place
Not just,
among people
But also,
Among concepts,
ideas
Reoccurring patterns
...
Everywhere!

Proteins oh Proteins,
How much you do for us!

You are our support
The framework keeping us up
The bones under our skin

You are the mad scientist
encouraging chemical reactions within us
Enzymes, catalyzing reactions

You are our traffic regulators
Signaling how much,
Hormones
Like insulin regulating glucose in the blood

You are the detectives within us
Figuring out what it bad
Then flagging it for destruction

You are our truck drivers
Shuttling materials to
and fro
Hemoglobin, carrying oxygen from the lungs

You are our storage
Our shelves packed to the brim with
materials
Like ferritin storing iron in our bodies

There is so much you do
That is key to our survival
...
However shall I remember all you do
for my test tomorrow?

Friendship is like
A diapole diapole interaction
Two different
Entities
Positive and negative
Attracted to each other

Best friendship
Is like a hydrogen bond
Still a diapole diapole
but stronger
Only possible in the presence of
A hydrogen
Someone in the relationship
Able to keep it afloat

A London dispersion
Force
Is like a pleasant acquaintance
Someone you get along with
But no strong emotional ties
To hold you there
Just
Small talk

An ion diapole bond
Is like
A difficult relationship
Opposites attract
But you’re bonded
So strongly
...
That eventually one
Of you just starts
To tear the other apart

Like salt in water

There's a mansion on a hill
I've seen it numerous times
But,
I've never been inside

It's said to belong to an old woman
Who is very selective
in who enters her domain

Either you're an insignificant servant
And you slip inside
Through a back door

A tiny molecule diffusing
from high to low concentration

Or, you're a personal servant
Then, you gain special access
Still, through the back door

Water molecule
Diffusing through osmosis

After that are ordinary guests,
aided by the butler
through the front door

Facilitated diffusion
Molecules carried or channeled

And finally,
the VIP's  
Welcomed by a great procession
Through a special VIP door
People,
invited by the madam
with great effort

Active transport
From low to high concentration
Requiring added energy

But despite this selectivity
of who can and cannot enter
That old mansion on the hill
And the jobs it provides
Is essential to the livelihood
Of the people in this town

Just like the cell membrane to our bodies

One may be straight
like a saturated fat

One maybe bent
like an unsaturated fat

Or, one could be bent,
disguised as straight
Like a trans fat

When you're little
and learning to grasp reality
Invisible friends
Unicorns
and fairy tales
are a common thing

But when you grow older
Do you actually grasp reality
...
Or are the mystical fairy chimes
in your head
just replaced with screaming?

CRAZY
...
...
...
Just another word
For people
We
Don’t
Understand

I’ve always wondered
Where is the cutoff
Between an introvert
And an extrovert

Does my shyness categorize me as intro
The fact that interacting with people
Tires me out?

Or does my seemingly endless capacity for talking
Penchant for loneliness
And people pleasing nature
Classify me as an extrovert?

Maybe,
The line is between those who,
Would rather spend time with others
Or instead in the company
Of
Their
Own
Thoughts

I personally though,
Think people
Need
A balance

hungry
Hungry
HUNGRY

For more appreciation
From society

Till society forgets you
And you just
Melt
...
Into
...
Nothingness


Love yourself for who you are,
Not what others think of you

She says that people don’t listen to her
I hold back my retort that
“She doesn’t listen to others”

She mentions how everyone keeps leaving her
I hold back my retort that
“Maybe if you were more aware of others it’d be easier to stay with you”

Honestly,
It’s more complex than that

To an extent,
I admire
Her ignorance of her surroundings
Those around her

Because,
I’m hyper aware
Too self conscious
Too worried about how others think of me

She’s the opposite
So wrapped up in a cacoon
Of her own problems
She doesn’t notice those around her

But this can also pose problems
A LOT
Of problems
We were best friends in eighth grade
But we grew
And I couldn’t handle
Such a close relationship
With her

I tried to expressly wait for her
Remember her birdthday
She didn’t notice
Or even if she did,
It was never reciprocated

I was talking
She’d respond
Immediately switching
The conversation
To herself

It’s not maliciousness
It’s just plain ignorance

But what can I do?
I’m still friends with her
She’s just not-nowhere near
The top of my list

I can’t go up to her
And tell her this
She’d take it the wrong way

But even then,
Who am I to tell her how to live her life?
I have enough social issues of my own
And she’s fine just the way it is

It’s extremely frustrating
Seeing a problem
But being unable
To do anything
About it

She wants more friends
She has to put in that effort
And I can’t
Be
The
One
To advise her how

She came that day
On the verge of tears
Certain,
Something tragic had occurred
I inquired as to the cause
Of her distress

“I told him...and he...”
Oh.
I didn’t have to hear any more.
I responded with sympathy
And let her rant out her emotions
As I considered what angle would be best
To complete my drawing
Considering this project could very well dictate our trimester grade...

Another girl came in the room
And was subject to the same story
She, unlike me, gave her a hug

Now,
You may be wondering
Or shocked
By my callous behavior
But see,
This was nothing new

From two years prior
Since the time we’d known each other
It was like this
She,
Colorful, cheerful, charismatic yet melancholic
Smart as well
Attracting friends to her
Like bees to honey

But...
She also had crushes
Loads of them
At least three to five a year

She cried in eighth grade
In ninth grade she actually went one with one
Then,
They broke up
After a week of neglect

Another guy liked her
But she didn’t like him
Despit confiding in him
Constantly
His emotional tendencies
Grew too much for her

Then she liked another,
But he was gay
So they stayed friends
But apparently she likes him again

No offense,
But I’m currently at the end of my tether
I have things to worry about
And it really makes me wonder,
How can someone feel so deeply each time?
It seems painful

She’s a wonderful person
But, very ephemeral
Her attention flits like a bird
And her attraction is deep
But short

As a friend though she’s great
And I have nothing against her
I think with a sigh as I look out the window
And she heaves a breath
On the verge of tears
Just another day of the symphony between a helpless romantic
And
A
Cynic

When you look at me
You instantly stereotype
My glassses
My skin color
You can probably guess I’m book smart
You’d be right
You can guess I’m introverted
You’d be semi right
You can guess I’m not naturally very athletic
You’d be right
You can guess my ethnicity
You’d probably be right
You can guess a lot of things
And there’s a high chance you’d be right for many of them

But...

What about those things,
You’d never guess?
I bet you’d never believe I was a Goalie
You probably don’t know I write poetry
I’m learning Chinese
I ran six miles in fifth grade
I enjoy acting
I’m an atheist
I have a mild obsession with Asian light novels
The list goes on...

But still,
The point here is
There’s a lot of things you don’t see

About me

About everyone

I’m just as guilty of judging as anyone else
We humans tend to categorize,
A lot
...
But,
It’s
Often
Not
True

When I set up my profile
I put down my gender
Right away
No qualms

But when it came to my age...
Sometimes I put it down
Sometimes I take it off

And I wonder why...

Somehow, to me
My gender has been
Entrenched, in my sense of identity

When I was little,
I remember thinking
“I like being a girl”
And there was nothing
To it, really
No true reason
I just liked who I was

But when it comes to age...
Social anxiety
Lack of confidence
Gave me difficulties
When interacting with peers
As I would have liked
At times
Adults were kind
And I saw them through rose colored glasses, mature individuals
I wanted to emulate
At times

Then...
At other times
I wanted to be a little kid
Innocent, young, free
Especially
When we started having homework

So.
My gender
Is okay with me
But as for my age...

There’s nothing wrong with it
But my double sense of identity
Between young
And old
Keeps me from consenting
To permenantly leaving those
Little
Black
Numbers
On my profile

How about you?
Are you certain about your gender?
Age?
Neither?
Both?

“It’s in your blood”
This phrase irritates me
To an extent because
We build
All his hype around
Birth
And blood
Legitimate
Iligetamate
But,
In the end
Aside from appearance
Certain genetic qualities
Maybe some personality traits
You’re a produce of your environment
“Birth parents”
“Legitimate child”
As long as there’s love in the relationship
Does it even matter?

Others,
Push it in
I,
Keep it out

In other words...
Others, fill their heart
I,
Keep mine tightly locked

With

A

Click!

When I was seven
My school
Held a glass blowing event
I got to help blow a really pretty
Blue one
I took it with me
Everywhere
Despite my mother’s warnings
And it shattered
So...
What makes you trust me with your heart?

That elusive quality
Essential for success
Seemingly in everyone
Except you

It's a funny feeling,
to have a conversation
with a field hockey ball

It wasn't even a conversation,
really
Mostly I just gave it a baleful glare
For being hit straight towards the cage
And stopping
RIGHT BEFORE IT

It truly didn't affect me in any way,
simply my inner angst
at my poor performance
being taken out on this innocent round
piece of plastic

Mostly, for eluding me
Yet, still stopping,
not by my efforts
But by the lack of force applied to it

It could have gone in
Or,
It could have been blocked

Instead,
it chose to rest
just before the finish line
taunting me,
Proving to me,
that my effort is completely unnecessary
That,
even an invisible entity
known as air resistance + friction
can do my job for me

Oh,
By now you're probably wondering
who I am in this scenario
Considering,
If I was an offender,
attempting to shoot
I'd desire the ball to cross
And I'd push it in
rather than subject it to my resentment

You, see
I,
am the goalie

He's a Peacock
Strutting about
Poised
Primped and preened
With feathers neatly arranged
My little brother
In his new choir clothes

He called me dense
It still sticks to me
Not because
I'm hurt
or anything

But because,
I find it funny
I don't think I am
I do notice things around me

Honestly though,
half the time
it's a real pain to be
aware of everything

I know what I need to
I focus on what I deem important

Yet...maybe my lack of societal awareness
has dubbed me dense?

I certainly do sport a happy go lucky attitude
Often childish
Book smart,
but often confused
seeming
And I certainly do have
the annoying habit of people pleasing
while being shy
and diffident
at times

It's funny
I almost feel smarter with myself
When I'm with others
self-consciousness
self-doubt
social anxiety
naturally takes hold

It sometimes places me
in the role of under dog
Or is it dark horse?
The one,
who surprisingly pulls through
Surprisingly,
has abilities

I'm a little bit like a wave I suppose
On a stormy night
Lashing this way and that
as I please
Sometimes broken down
other times mowing my way through

So, maybe I am dense
Maybe I'm not
I don't know

Life...
can be described by many adjectives
But, let me keep mowing through
On my own merry way
Chugging like,
as my little brother would say,
A chu chu train

There are many amino acids
But not nearly as many as there are
people

But,
like us,
humans
They are identical except for one key part
that makes them
intrinsically
completely
unique

A grand musical is underway!
Actors and actresses scurrying about
Memorizing their lines written by poets
Weaving sweet phrases
Conveying positivity
Encouragement
Cheerfulness
Artists shaping the smile
The relaxed pose
Arms open and inviting
Ready for instant hugs
A harpist for the mouth
Melodious
Joyful
Sounds
All this is at play
So, how is it possible
For one
To look deeper
And see what’s really behind the smile?

They were my friends
They aren’t now...
Is that really true?
Or is it just me,
distancing myself?

I write like a paintball machine
Spitting out ***** of paint
In flights of fancy

I write like I think
My thoughts
And emotions
Coming alive

I write like a roller coaster
My mood swings apparent
High to low
And sometimes
Just plain wired

I write like I sing
At moments belting it all out
Other times, softer
Taking the effort
To sing so others will like it

I write like a camera
Taking snapshots
Of everything surrounding me
Both outside
And inside

I write like I cry
The words coming out like an endless waterfall
In a short burst of emotion
Before it stops
And I am light as a feather

I could compare my writing to so much
It’d probably take longer than I have
To name them all
But with just this
I’m sure you can relate

Writing can be a lovely thing

My mother’s favorite color is green
But I never understood why
I don’t dislike it
But
I couldn’t see myself being attracted
In flights of fancy
Excitement
Now,
I understand

Green,
To me
Is the color of the plants,
leaves of trees
Grass
Buds
My mother’s favorite color

Representative
Of those things I take for granted
Those everyday things...

That are essential to me

It may not be the color that grabs my attention
But rather
Like a steady boat
Keeping me afloat
Basically
My stability
...
Not a want,
But
A
Need

I seemed to have blocked
An amazing poet
And she blocked me back
Before I could undo my mistake

Just a color
But,
Is it really?

In preschool it was fine
I liked what I liked
No one cared

In elementary school
It became
Girly
Yet, ironically
This made most of the girls
Like me
Tomboys
Stay away from it

And instead,
It became cool for a guy
To like it

In highschool
Girls don’t care
Guys don’t care
People like what they want

But,
Is that really how it is?

Somewhere, under the surface
Amongst sparkly pink nails
And dresses

Somehow,
It’s not a color anymore
...
But a symbol

Is it better
To have complex sounding poems
With analogies, literary devices, and enriching words galore
Conveying the same message in numerous ways
But sporting a simple ideas

Or
To have simply written
Clearly stated
Easily comprehensibly worded
Poems
Sporting complex ideas?

In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?

To go
Or not to go
That is the question
whether tis noble in the mind
to suffer the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune
or to take arms against
a sea of troubles
and by opposing end-

Okay guys that's enough.
Anyone recognize that?

Seriously though, should I go to the dance?

A part of me wants to
I'd get to see my friends
share experiences with them...

Another though,
Would rather stay at home
having more fun there

My mom told me I should go
try something new

But it isn't new
I went last year

It was great
But right now I'm feeling mildly invisible in my friend group

Maybe more effort is required?
To relate more with them?

But it's not due to malicious intent
Or anything

I
just
feel
invisible

I have one best friend though
But we're kind of different
It's still easy and fun
between us

She doesn't go to the dances
She doesn't wear dresses
She'd rather play video games
Watch ****** Do
Or read Agatha Christy

I have other friends too
But I don't talk to the ones I don't see everyday much

But I talk to a variety of people as well
At least,
I have people I can easily talk to

Should I go?
I probably won't be lonely
But I'd probably have at least some times
of Boredom

No

Maybe that's why I'm not going
I'm a coward

But

That isn't it
...exactly
It's sort of
laziness
combined with a mild fear
But mostly I feel I'd have more fun at home

AAAARGGH!

Somehow I seem to believe I'll have better friends in the future
Maybe
Maybe not
I think I will though

Plus, at this age
at least in all the relationships I've had

Both sides
Are SUPER self-obsessed

PEOPLE ARE SO SELF-OBSESSED
(Me included)

Alright rant over
(Probably not)

I held back the waterfall
threatening to pour
Honestly,
Is it passive resignation?
I don't believe so
It feels more like...
waiting
Taking joy in the little things
But clutching onto a hope
that the world
my world
my story
will just evolve into just about every book
I've read
A happy story
I mean-it is
But, it's imperfect
Filled with incessant
USELESS
pity parties
I'm not friendless
I'm not heart broken
I have my family
I have talent
I have resources
I live in a great community
I have a great education
Endless opportunities
At my disposal
If I just reach
But-
It's impossible to feel perfect
And impossible to shrug off the laziness
The complacency
The flaws
It's important to be greatful
And I am
If I had the opportunity to trade
I definitely wouldn't
But-
It is true that sometimes
I'm smacked in the face
with the imperfections
the flaws
of my world
that I strive towards
I must keep striving towards
...
Okay.

I feel better now.

Do you rely on this website more
To write
Or to read?
...
Equally?

Three nobles were fleeing
after the monarchy had been overthrown

Three non-polar amino acids were trying to get away
from the polar gel they were on

They were escaping through means of a merchant who dealt with the black market
He gave priority to those who paid a heftier sum

The amino acids were aided by a non-polar liquid solution
The more non-polar the amino acid the higher up the solution could get them

But alas! For the merchant lacked the resources to
get the nobles out of danger

The amino acids all eventually reached the top of the gel sheet
But they would need extra aid to go over the top

And that is my science class

When I was young enough to remember
my dad told be not to be one
an "also ran"

It was only when I was older
I understood
...
She is a swimmer who has been to state
I also swam
...
She's gotten second place in piano state
I also played
...
She's the varsity goalie and incredibly athletic
I'm also a goalie
...
He's our debate team co-head and one of our best
I also debate
...
She's amazing at writing poetry
I also write
...
Her squash team got second in the state
I also play squash
...
She was the lead of the musical
I was also in the musical
...
I could keep going
But I think you get the point
...
So what,
if I've tried everything
do everything
know everything?

I have to find
that one thing I'll be the best at
...
...
...
I can't always be an also ran

I know him from Debate
I know her since we share a similar name
I know them from playback theater
I know him from the musical last year
I know her from squash
I know them from my old school
...
You may think I'm a social butterfly
But,
that's not the case

I know him being, 'I know he's very polite but easily argumentative from my one word interactions with him and he's dated one of my friends'

I know her being 'I've heard of her from others who confuse our names but I've never really spoken with her except for exclaiming over our names'

I know them being 'I came to the meeting and listened quietly eating bagels as they spouted all the ideas'

I know him being 'my friend talked to him and I was there, we had to **** each other during one of the acts'

I know her being 'I finished my squash match early and watched her play hers'

I know them being 'they knew me as the shy girl who likes to read, I know them as people I inevitably talked to during school activities in our small grade'

It's unfortunate
really,
when I think

I could be great friends with these guys
If
I
only
stopped
being
so
self
conscious

When I write poetry
I write like I speak
Almost
Basically
My thoughts
Feelings
Emotions
As they come
But
When she writes
Each word
Each phrase
Each letter
Each sound
is carefully thought out
Meticulous
Perfect
Each, an essential part of the whole
The materpiece
So,
Is it something I will learn?
When I grow up?
Or,
Is it an innate difference between us?

The question really is
how much of yourself do you want out there?
For one and all to see?

Social media-
other online platforms as well,

Allow one to remake themselves
or simply unveil what they choose

But,
in the end
Even,
if you try to hide it

You're still you
and
I'm still me

What is
selfless
When helping
Others
Makes you feel
good
about yourself

When I was but a child
To litter seemed a scandelous crime
As we were taking a walk one day
I vowed
That I’d bring
My plastic grabby tool out
And clean it all up
...
We got home
Milk and cookies
Was all it to took
For me to forget
...
A couple of years later
I saw a piece of plastic in our yard
I picked it up
Brought it home
And disposed of it
Feeling great about myself
...
The year after my brother happened to have a park cleanup
At his school
I had time
So I thought,
Why not?
I came along
Used funky tools
Counted each piece I picked up
Feeling good about myself
Then I went home
To eat some cookies
...
The next time I saw a piece of trash,
I acknowledged there wasn’t anything much I would do about it
...
After that I stopped noticing all together

They instill the knowledge in kids
That littering is bad
But just words
Are words
Until we put in a team effort
Rather than acknowledging others will do it for us
Or that it’s too hopeless
Nothing will ever get done

Such a simple thing
All should do it
Yet
All do not
As much as they should

In elementary school
The thought of sleeping
Past 9
Seemed sacrilegious

Now,
Sleeping before
Seems
Impossible

11:00 bedtimes
Sometimes just because
I can’t afford to put my electronic down

Yet
It’s essential
A period for us to rest

So why keep changing it?
Why keep pushing it
away?

When
The only
One being harmed
Is
Ourselves?

The first and last time I ever
bragged was in fifth grade
We’d been on a unit related to the
Ancient Egyptians
I was the only one in our class to have
gotten a good score
On the reading comprehension
Our teacher even
Announced it to the whole class

I was ecstatic
So, I tapped the shoulder of the girl next to me
Whose face clearly showed that
her result wasn’t as joyous
and I told her
The glee practically bursting out of me

“I KNOW!” She screamed
Red faced
A cascade of tears water falling down
Her face

That stayed with me
Even now I ask myself,
Such a pointless thing
It’s only purpose
Being
To hurt
Such a useless thing
Why did I ever do it?

And that is why
I never brag
Even to this day

They’re cheesy
Some of my poems I know
An imitation
Of ideas used to the point of being frayed
Tattered and in holes
No longer appealing
Until I take them
And give them a shiny new cover
Then they’re attractive...
To some
Who need the idea repeated to them
Or to those who truly appreciate poetry for its function as a medium
Through which ideas, old and new, are transmitted in
Attractive ways
So maybe it’s really the reader
What they
Need
Want
And see

Sometimes,
I catch sight of the me

The me behind self consciousness
doubt
social anxiety
always

The me behind my ******* hair
prim and propper
glasses
always

The me behind silence
Choosing my own thoughts
to the company of others
always

Now, I'm not saying
Being this way is wrong
...
But in my case
It's
always

I'm trapped
in a cage of my own making
and I only get to peer inside
At the me that could be
...
Sometimes

The air is thick with tension
Limpid red rimmed eyes, ready
for waterworks at a moment’s notice
Hands repeatedly
Clenching and unclenching
Feet drumming
Lips pursed, turning white
Stomach clenched
Wound up
Like a spring
Permeating sense of foreboding
...
As the teacher hands out our history test

Today I was looking through my old works
Searching
For a hidden treasure
A diamond in the mud
Or even
A pliable piece of wood
Maybe not a prize in itself
But
Potential
Or something quite ordinary
But hiding secrets within
Of emotions
Memories
Thoughts I never knew I had
Something
Anything to excite my senses
And to give me a sense
That it
was worth it

What is being smart?
I've always wondered
Is it having innate talent?
Or being exceedingly knowledgeable?
Perhaps, having the skills to survive in one's society?
...
Is it a special skill?
Is it something that can be cultivated?
Is it limited to certain people?
...
So what is it?
...
...
...
I'd really like to know

It's stifling
Unseen
Unheard
Unnoticed
By anyone
By anything
Invisible
in a room
full of my
supposed
...
friends