In first grade you accused me of having a stutter, just because I couldn't speak as fast as the others. So I studied really hard, and now I speak just fine. But in third grade that didn't matter, cause you'd made me a sign. You labeled me something, now it's stuck in my head. Along with all the other names and mean things that you've said. In fifth grade I didn't try out, for the cheer leading team. You said I was too fat and that I couldn't fit my jeans. Seventh grade came around, and I was slim as a stick. I didn't eat much anymore, so you labeled me an anorexic *****. Each day that went by, I got more and more depressed. Until one day I decided to just not get dressed. I slept all morning, and woke up that night. Then for hours with my thoughts I did endlessly fight. Ninth grade crept up, there was a huge school dance. You knew who I liked and said I didn't have a chance. Everything you said, I eventually believed, until that one day senior year, I saw what most didn't see. I saw your father hit you, I found out your mother had died, I watched you run into the bathroom with tears in your eyes. I found out you were failing, and heard your boyfriend had cheated. And it was right then and there that your spell I defeated. It was the end of senior year, and I knew I wasn't the problem. I had been living to please you, and you pinned me at the bottom. You had the issues, you were in pain. But I'm my own person, and that you can't change. You brought people down, because your ship was sinking. But I've abandoned ship, from now on I'll do my own thinking. I'm not stupid, or fat, and I didn't have a stutter. I'm not ugly or worthless, and my crush said we're perfect for each other. I'm following my heart, I'm chasing my dreams, and from this day forward. I'm living for me.

Recently I've noticed, that the world's skin deep. We've stopped looking past our features, and started scanning from head to feet. Closed minds don't matter, when your legs are open wide. Just like a personality is worthless, when you only want physically inside. We say we want to find love, but only indulge ourselves in lust. Just  to wind up brokenhearted, and wondering who we can trust.

Baby blame it all on me. I'll take your pain, I'll set you free.
I don't care about the facts, just pin it all upon my back.

We can stay up and fight all night, I'll say I'm sorry, turn out the light.
And then I'll cry until I can't, but I'll take credit for the rants.

I'm the **** up, I'm the problem, and I'm sorry that I can't solve em.
But I'll try, and I'll say. That's it's alright, you're okay.

It wasn't you, it's just me. I'm the problem, can't you see?
So then you'll blame it all on me.

But I'll take your pain, if it'll set you free.
So I let you blame it all on me.

The lights were dim, casting a faint shadow over your rounded lips.
You placed your hand on the table, and with the gentlest of eyes you peered into the very depths of my being. My fingers intertwined with yours, and my cheeks tugged at the edges of my lips as I tried to fight back a overly idiotic smile. I lifted my eyes and looked right back into yours, as though they were but a window into the things of your past, but I merely closed the curtains. For all that mattered in that moment was the heat I felt sinking into my skin from your hand holding mine. All that mattered was the way your eyes glistened in the faded lights, and the way your lips seemed to be taunting me to kiss them. I don't know the definition of perfect, and I know nothing in life is. But I do know that happiness is very real, and I was so genuinely, and confidently, happy. You then drove me home, oh how I wished the miles could of drug on forever. Stealing glances of your picture perfect portrait as you had your eyes on the road. But my favorite was attempting to steal a glance only to find you already looking at me. It wasn't love, no, not yet. But it was the kind of happiness you search a lifetime for, and when you find it, your life kind of just feels, complete. I wanted to kiss you, but I'm glad I didn't. As I watched you casually walk back to your truck, I held my breath to keep myself from calling out your name. You see, just because in your book, everything is going smoothly like a fairy tale. You're not the author of the other persons novel, and to you, my handsome prince. To you I was merely apart of your introduction. See you hadn't even wrote your first chapter yet, and I had thought we were writing the last one of our pages, together. But you, you wanted to be;

on your own.

Will I ever outgrow this constant state of failure. This so called Karma, or "bad luck" that seems to haunt every path I tread. Like a shadow, it's presence is constantly there, just not always visible. Will I ever be seen as perfect? What defines perfection, what makes one perfect, how do you obtain this title, and how do you keep it. How can I become anything besides myself.