It was not his marriage
Nor his divorce
The estranged couple were no strangers
But they were not his friends
He'd simply witnessed the marriage from its conception

Spent years working parallel to it
All three of them with sweat and sunburns
Until calluses grew on their heels
One summer he lost his voice, she sprained a finger
And her boyfriend- later fiance- repeatedly tore open the same paper cut
Yet still they toiled under the sun

Waving their arms like advertising balloons at a car dealership
They stood behind a folding table
A stack of books, freshly smelling of ink
Free magazine, they cajoled, take a free copy!

Once they tried bribing pedestrians with pizza
Take a slice with your free magazine!
They peddled poems that no one wanted to read
It was thankless; they were shameless

But while he paced in his apartment all these years later
Naked
Drunk
Alone
He read poems out loud, gesticulating to an empty room

Heedless of his open window
He performed
The words were flawlessly tragic
Delivery: not so much (don't blame a drunk for slurring)
Melancholic poems are like fine wine, he thought
And drove himself to tears

But, he mused, at least I made the sensible choice
I didn't go and get tangled
Those fools, his peers, had unraveled
Separated, but stained
Would they ever get clean of it?

No, it wasn't his marriage
And it wasn't his divorce
But he felt sympathy
No! Empathy
For all three of them would die alone
And their poems be buried with them

I could say I'm the result of my parents:
I'm organized because they raised me to be,
Intelligent because they gave me those genes,
Short for the same reason- at 4' 10' I'm as tall as I'll ever be.
But I know there's more than just that to make me Me.

I could say the thoughts in my head were influenced by the books I've read,
That my way of thinking is directed by all the words in someone else's head,
And that even though half of these people are dead
They live on with the readers like you and me.
But I know there's another reason my mind thinks as Me.

I could say all the little habits I live every day
Were first watched when I saw someone else do them that way.
I saw my mother’s reserved behaviors and made them my own,
I watched Nickelodeon and learned how to crack a joke,
And all my memories as I acted upon these things could very well be what made me Me.
But I know I'm the only person who truly acts like me.

I know that genes made up my body,
But do genes decide how I cut my hair?
Or chose the color I paint the finger nails my body grows,
Decide what clothes my body will wear?

I know books influence my way of thinking,
But who decided which books I want to read?
Wasn’t that Me?

I know there's not a habit in this world for me to pick up that wasn't someone else's first,
But when I saw someone bite their nails I didn't bite mine too.
Instead I paced around my room, not even knowing where I got it from.
No one chooses my habits any more than my clothes or my books.


I chose those things because I liked them.
Because I wanted to.
I chose the things that make me.
So then if you asked me, "Why are you, you?"
I'd say, "Because I want to be."

I want to love a stalker

He'd be the perfect date

If I told him I was too busy

He'd camp outside and wait


I want to love a stalker

He'd always know the right thing to say

Because he'd eavesdrop on my conversations

He'd follow me all day


I want to love a stalker

Then I'd never be alone

He'd come after me forever

Even when I tell him no


He won't accept rejection

He'll give me his whole life

Even when I say I don't want it

He'd never give up, he'd never cry


I want to love a stalker

Want to fight him and run away

I want him to ****** the boys that come near me

And carry me away


I want to love a stalker

Because I have no other choice

I want to love a stalker

Want him to pin me down and hold me tight


I want to love a stalker

Because I'm always going to fight

If he were a stalker I could say no over and over again

And he would never let me go


Until I say no while thinking yes