I have a box
A nice cozy box
I try to make my way to the
But...I never make it
Out

That doesn’t matter
It’s still fun to try
To push my limits

But


Still in never out
I won’t go out
I. Can push
But I. Cannot
Go out

Because it’s warm and cozy in this box
I know what I can do,
I know,
The extent of my abilities

Why should,
I push through?

You’ll be regretting those words,
One day
She tells me

I don’t care


Fine,
But what if
Your protected world
Just
Disappears







Drip




Drop













Drip









...

When I’m down
Real low
I start writing
Like a disease
Busting out those poems
Emotions
Like a waterfall
Or like puke
As the words tumble out of me
Till I’m dry
But I never seem to be

Sometimes,
I just fake it
Cause
It’s easier

Yes,
The test was hard
Even though,
I got a 98%

Yes,
He has a bad personality
Even though,
He’s been nothing less
Than polite
To me

Yes,
She’s so amazing at it
Even though,
I’m not too far behind

Yes,
Their relationship is going to fail
Even though,
I think it’s rude
To gossip
Behind their
Backs


These things...
And more,
It doesn’t
Change
Anything
Even if I explain
Will people even listen?
Care?

So...
I let it be
It’s             Easier
I mean,
Not when it directly hurts
Others
I do have a bottom line

But otherwise...
With shades of gray
Difficult,
To differentiate
Between
  Right
Wrong
  Good
Bad

...

I guess...
I’ll let it be

After all,
It’s


Easier?

Before you know it
It’s over
And you’re left wondering
How did it start
How did it end
Is it really gone?
A suspicion of deception invades you
Until your rationality convinces you otherwise
Its really done
No more
Tomorrow
And tomorrow
And the next
Yet
Your heart refuses to believe
For the longest time
As you gaze at your phone waiting
Until it gradually grows slow
And cold
And slower still
Till it stops all together

When spring time comes...
couples naturally come
together,
lowering
the stress of
finding someone
to go to the dance with

An exothermic reaction
Releasing energy
into the environment
By forming
bonds

But,
with the help of
events such as
jealous ex's
bad grades
losing teams
The couples are
forced
to break

An endothermic reaction
Energy is added
to
break bonds
...
And
hearts

It’s sad sometimes how desperate I can be
But what’s even sadder is-
Enough
CUT OUT THE POINTLESS SELF DEPRICATION

When you watch the sun set
what do you see?
The world aglow with
The sun’s last melody
A parting farewell
Or perhaps
A last clinging hope
To keep one good friend
Or at least imprint
A memory in our hearts
Of glimmering lights with orange hue
Before the sun rise starts anew
And our previous memories are washed away
As our mind turns to small common place affairs
And we start another day

A groan
A moan
Head ready to burst
Pickkkkk it upppp, yessssshhh
The traitorous voice hisses within
Pikkkkk it up and alllll your worrrrries are gonnnnneeeeee
I try-TRY to resist
Six is more than enough!
This vicious cycle cannot continue!

Too late
I’m binging on another tub of ice cream for another hour of Netflix
And another splitting headache coming right up

Rather to be...
A big          fish
In a           small pond
Or small        fish
In a         big pond
I've come across this question
a        lot

Whether to be a lead        in the middle school play
Or an extra    in the high school play

To be top of          JV
or to be bottom of  Varsity

To get A's in           regular math
Or B's in accelerated

To be the best         of the worst
To be the worst         of the best

Is a question,
I'm
Still
Grappling             with

I have my flaws clear as day
And some not so clear, but there all the same

On his cheek
I see a piece of her
He forgot to brush off

Elegy, elegy, elegy
The words pop out at me, framed by the strokes of...expressionism was it?
Honestly, I don’t know
The minimal art history I was exposed to
Has gone, been erased leaving me the white board
To scrawl something else hastily before-

I wonder why I read it,
Is it perhaps to affirm to myself
That I’m worth something?

No, that can’t be right
I do of course love myself, I have healthy amount of self love
I suppose then, it’s confidence at stake here
...maybe?

That whether I manage to memorize all the terms
Whether I can keep my hands from straying to another tab
That whether I can kick away the ball that is distractions and addictions and every self created villain in my fairytale

Determines who
I am and how
Much I’m worth

Is false

Because

I

Love me I do
I really do

But,
I still have to get out of this rut
I still have to do better
Then, maybe
One day I’ll

When I'm on a field
I can be free

When I'm with my family
I can be free

When I'm with little children
I can be free

When I'm with animals
I can be free

When I write
I can be free

...

But when I'm anywhere else
I'm constrained by
a cage known as-
self consciousness
social anxiety
shyness
She comes by many names
...

By any chance,
are you familiar with her?

When I'm on a field
I can be free

When I'm with my family
I can be free

When I'm with little children
I can be free

When I write
I can be free

...

But when I'm anywhere else
I'm constrained by
a cage known as-
self consciousness
social anxiety
shyness
She comes by many names
...

By any chance,
are you familiar with her?
I’m sure you are

You may have met her,
In JK,
When you found out there’s a difference
Between a boy
And a girl

You may have met her,
In the playground
When you were
The only one
Who though
Playing
“Fashion show”
Was
Stupid

You may have met her
When that annoying
Red head
Kept saying
Ewwwwww
Whenever
Your underwear
Showed
During P.E.

You may have met her
In middle school
When you had your
First crush
But everyone insisted
You liked
His
Best
Friend

You may have met her
When every one
Of your friends
Was in
Accelerated
But you
Couldn’t wrap
Your head
Around
Rational functions

You may have met her
When every one of your friends
Had success branded
On their foreheads
With their futures
Straight through
A paved road
While you
Were left
A forest
To
Traverse

You may have met her
In any number
Of places
With any number
Of people
With any number-
…
Everywhere…
Even in the sock
You forgot had a hole
In it,
And wore to school
…
Now,
She’s obviously
Everywhere,
So you can’t ignore her
Hating on her,
Just makes
You hate yourself
So…
..
…
….
Why not become her friend?

When I start to write a poem my initial reaction is to
Purse my lips, brush aside my hair, twiddle my toes, try to feel
Where I am write down, who
I am write now, equal measures physically and mentally
In the case that the tap is on, my thoughts flowing in a steady stream I greedily clutch at them
Some are caught successfully in a bucket but more than I realize slip through
The cracks in my fingers

The times when the **** seems firmly shut I’m left
Waiting,
For an opening in my mind that seems to have dried up,
Not a drop left

So, I start digging. A scratch, two, eventually like a dog frantic for his treasure
I usually hit something
But as to whether it’s my prize is another matter
I’m more often hit with a rock
A very hard unmoving rock

Although, sometimes the rock is gold
Or pyrite and I can pass it off as such
It still glitters and shines
And that’s fine, isn’t it?

Poetry is for thinkers, I think
Those who’d spend their days dreaming away
Or those who, in a moment of passion
Scrawl down their thoughts
On little post it note poems
No matter the medium
Though, one can not deny
Poetry is for thinkers

Now, this past week I’ve been a doer
Typically, my lazy temperament
Would prevent this
But things happened
And more things needed doing
Without a doer to do them

And now my mind has switched
And all I can think to do is do
Rather than think to think, reflect
My mind has transformed
From a dreamland
To a bucket list

So many people want to be
DIFFERENT
To stand out
Be unique, brilliant, and attractive
like a shining star
So many people want to be the
same
To conform
To fit in and belong like feet in a
snug pair of shoes
But, why?
When one always wants the other is one really better?

In second grade my student number was 16
New school
New friends
Boy problems like a sixteen year old girl
Lamenting over
My crush leaving the state
But I still remember
he didn’t pick me to cut cut his goodbye cake
In third grade my student number was 12
From sixteen to twelve years
My immaturity dropped
To new heights
As I began crushing on Crush #1’s best friend
Too shy
Otherwise he may leave too
No friends either
Except one
Who cheated me out of a bag of oyster crackers while trading at lunch
In fourth grade my student number was 14
Little more maturity
Or at least I thought I was
Like a fourteen year old girl
A shining star, doing gymnastics on the railing for then handicapped ramp
And our very own fashion show
On the grassy hill in the playground
In fifth grade my student number was 15
I was like a big girl now
I had my own best friends
I didn’t need a crush-who cared about iky romance?
In sixth grade my student number was 25
My own maturity soared
While my friend’s dropped
As my friend’s hearts were broken
And age long friendships broke apart
I was the helpless observer
No drama of my own (thankfully)
But plenty from all other sides
And so came the end of my elementary school years and my innocence along with it.

I have a friend
She has a prickly
Exterior
Lashing out at
Others
First

Last year
She god a pet
Hedgehog
...
It died two weeks later


Sometimes the shield we put up
Hurts us
The
Most

Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...

A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back

The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life

The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt

The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not

The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand

The phone whose screen happened to crack at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print

The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains

The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-

I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive

I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp

Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness

These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse

But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"

In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant

I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?

It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.




...



Why?

Awkward smiles
We try
Ha, ha, ha
Act like it’s all good
Touching the surface, greatly scratching, bearly a ripple
We easily avoid it, the clean, smooth, pristine surface
Skirt around disturbing it’s placed waters
Skirt around saying what really needs to be said
Instead we laugh, and smile
Weaving a masterpiece
Of our own

Some may blame this course of action but,
What if we do disturb the sleeping lion
What then
What then?
Are we afraid of
Our perfect facade
Perfect visage breaking
Shattering into millions of tiny pieces
Too small to reattach

“But if it’s broken can’t you just fix it?”
“How, Sweetie?”

“My mommy always puts a band aid on my boo boos”
“But it’s not a boo boo, it’s completely broken.”

“Then why don’t you just build it again?”
“How?”
“With legos! That way it’ll be taller and even better!”



Ha,
Ha, ha, ha, ha
Sometimes the answer is right there

It it better to write...

Like you breathe?
Like you're creating a piece of art?
Or like you're taking a test?

Most of my poetry on here is from 2 years ago
Back when I was
                     - not depressed -
But covered in a blanket of social anxiety and under confidence
which could have easily been mistaken for such

Each of my poems from then
involves the romantic dreams of a naive young girl
searching for a purpose, searching for her purpose

Each of my poems from then
ends in a query  
                          - as if -
I didn't think I could possibly be right
and I was still trying to find my way

Each of my poems from then
involved an intrinsic indecisiveness
from a time when my every word every glance every action
was blanketed and wrapped into a burrito of -
"am I doing this right?"
"what should I do?"
"Should I even be...?"

But now,
It's two years later and about time for me to get my ***** together
It's come for me, whether I'm ready or not
Time to leave my bubble and take my first step
time for applications
I'm not nearly as experienced, wise, nor knowledgeable as I could, should, will be
But I better get my act together and look like
I AM

My parents...
are immigrants
Yet, why is it I,
so strongly
reject
their once,
homeland?
...
Perhaps,
the cause
it rooted at
my dad's cynical
comments
and critics
...
Perhaps,
it's my own visits
stifling relatives
horrible traffic
definitely
less, comfortable
...
Maybe,
it's the rejection
of such a gripping
religion
when I myself,
am an atheist
...
Maybe it's
the stereotypes
Chaining me
enclosing me
irritating me
...
...
...
Whatever the case,
it's there

I can be whoever I want to be
what-blood-crap?

Go far back enough,
and we're all related

The only links I have,
are my visits
and influence
of my parents
who once lived there
...
It's not a bad place...
at all...
...
That's not the problem
...
Is there one even?
...
...
...
I,
can be
who
I want
to
be