I must simply be doing something wrong,
For if I'm worried where my track will end,
Surely that means I don't trust myself one bit.

Sure, I've haulted my existence to grab a taste of recklessness
But how far will the road take me,
Until I'm breathless?
Lying in roads ****** off greens
Jumping in cars without gasoline
I've become the very thing my mother tried to keep me from being.
I want to stop from this parade of self destruction and maybe get my life together
But that too is hard to do
When all you do all day is drink, smoke, and waste away.

I'm sorry I latched onto **you

I feel as if I'm becoming a *****.
As if my body is no longer the temple feminists and my mother claim it to be.
I just feel my body isn't my own.

I meet men every day.
Once I searched but now I let them find me.
It's not like they sit long enough to hear my words.
To hear how educated I am and how I'm pretty cool to be around.
Nah, all they want is my womanhood
And I, being weak for words and a pretty face,
Let them have it.

"That ***. ****, that ***."
Is that my redeeming factor?
"Those eyes, ****"
Is that the only thing about me, clothed, that interests you?
"****, them moves"
Boy if how I work in the bedroom is all you seek I need you to keep moving.

Because I'm sick of being the ***** of my friends

I had a conversation not long ago that most of my male friends wanna "hit that hard"
I gotta say, for a second I was flattered.
After being called ugly since I was young, being wanted in any way is flattering to me
Call me pretty and I'm yours.
Call me **** and I'll show you.

****
Reading my own words have instilled in me a will to stop but
The fact is that I won't
This destruction of my psychosis is simply the beginning, and certainly unbecoming
Of a girl like me,
I'd call myself a woman but that would disgrace the ones who work hard and love harder.

Nah, I'm done sneaking out of my house to hit it and quit it.
I'm done lurking in shadows for love.
The simple fact is that I don't know where this derailed train of self destruction will lead me but I have my one way ticket
Might as well find out, right?

I'm not a poet
I shouldn't claim the like
Because a poet would know more
About struggle and strife
While I myself lay my head on a bed
Some poets stay up all night
Driving home their nails
Into the coffin of conviction
How dare I say I'm impaled.
While others wrote beautifully on social issues or on love
I sit and stare at the wall
I churn out writings on things such as white struggles and heartache
I'll write about the same boy over and over again with a different ad lib.
I'll write about voices in minds I can't reach or begin to comprehend
So tell me how I'm a poet, again?
Because I can write a line and hit an enter key
I somehow think I'm a cool *** thing.
Nah man, I'm not a poet
I'm a wannabe

Shes a glass of whiskey and coke
Shes a hit with a definite choke
Shes an untamed wildflower in May
Shes a destined part of the day
Weather you see her or not shes most certainly there
From those torn up jeans to that fiery hair
Shes most likely to turn up everywhere
With a face like hers she can blend with the crowd
But when its time for her to stand out
****
She can make a room stare.
Shes a magician with an umexplainable act
Shes the leader of a suicide pact
When she says jump most ask how high
And i guess thats what shes trying to define
With the envy of others on her side
All she tries now is to hide
But she cant quite make it
Can you see why
Shes a poet with sparkles in her eyes
So any man will meet their demise
Just to convince her shes worth their time.

If you catch me falling, I might fall for you.

She never thought she'd see sunrise

Sometimes I can't help but contemplate
If I could break the mold my family had created
And filled with cynicism and passive-agression
Then I see how I had broken it long ago
When I was the first to try and destroy family ties
For the sake of my sanity and they wondered what was wrong with me
That's when I realized
Family can be your own worst enemy

She could only lay in wonder
How can someone so whole
Love someone so full of holes

I am a brainwashed, pompous, white girl.
I am a blonde haired zombie.
I am an unspecified music genre.
I am an incoherent thought in the brain of a broken society.

I am the result of a hard-*** Catholic and half-*** Baptist.
I am the consequence of a hard mother and an absent father
I am a product of a corrupted America.
I am a privileged white statistic.

I constantly play the victim.
I constantly hold myself responsible.
I constantly lie, cheat, and steal
I constantly prove I am a hypocrite.

I am simple, indecisive, and manipulative.
I am myself and then contradict myself by being someone else.
I am human, but unadorned.

I am a blank canvas which manifests contradictions and inabilities.
I am a snowflake made of stone.
I am an uninterested, direct line of truth spurts

I am plain.
As you see from my complexion, I am pale.
As you hear from my words, I am a refutation of minority.

I am not unique, I am not creative.
I am not what you think I am.
I am not who you think I am.

But if you knew who I was:
Would you leave?

She wanted to know
Just why he kept leaving her

If you ask my friends what I've become
They'll start singing song lyrics
"Tried to find you t the bottom of a bottle, laying down on the bathroom floor"
"You're gone and she's gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off her mind"
And by God they wouldn't be wrong.
I've taken up these habits and made them my own
Creating my own personal bubble that's headed straight for hell
I'm not saying what I've become is all your fault
But you certainly contributed to my status.
My chain smoking, my drug use, my increased alcohol consumption
My need to drive dangerously fast, stepping into traffic, my laying on blacktops
To everyone I know, it's as if I'm certainly flirting with Death
And I guess its true
And I'm not taking 100% of the blame
Some of it is on you.

I saw your face today
No I didn't get sad or anything.
I got angry because I know you saw me too.
You saw my moms car and looked the other way, biting your nail as you do.
I know it was you.
It wasn't your truck,
But I'd know that green ballcap anywhere.
Because I'd steal it every time we were together.
I'd know that God awful plad shirt anywhere
It was and if your only nice shirt
You always wore it all nice and tucked in on dates
So don't text me once you stumble upon this and say it wasn't you
Because I may be sick with terrible eyes
But I always know when I see you.

Because I cannot stop my hands from shaking
Nor the wobble in my walk
I've come to terms with my mortality.
If not for a recent understanding
Of what keeps my mind on pins.
I cannot wait until I ache
For that stomach punching pit again
Putting me out my misery.
One day soon I hope and I pray
I can look you in the eyes and turn you away
But for whatever reason you remain.
The hopelessness that my eyes portray
Simply weaken every day
Until the day someone says so
And my anxiety just goes away

If you're still there,
Watching me from afar
You watched as I danced with my devils again.
You saw how I have finally
Let them win

When you told me I didn't love you
I simply thought how would you know
For I remembered the spaces between your fingers
And the crease between your eyes
How dare you tell me
I never thought of you as mine.

The first thing that you forget, when you stop talking to someone is the sound of their voice.
So I suggest with every voicemail you receive, save it.
Whether it be from your grandma or your aunt or your boyfriend
You'll miss them sooner or later if they leave you.
When It's a healthy time for you, and you miss them a lot,
You'll still have their voice.
The way they spoke, every lisp every stutter
You'll hear it in that old voicemail.

I once loved a boy.
Some know most of  the story, some only know half
But only he and I know every end and out of that year and a half.
I still have his voicemails,
but they aren't only the happy ones.
Matter of fact, he only left me a voicemail when he was angry or when he had news he couldn't keep to himself long enough.
I deleted the happy ones after we broke up.

But I didn't do it because I was angry,
I did it because I wasn't worthy.
And yet, they're still in my trash bin waiting, ready to be recovered.

Because some days, I wonder if he's happy.
Then I'll hear his voicemail telling me he got his GED.
And it was because of me.
Because some days I wonder if he misses me
Then I'll hear his voicemail telling me he loves me and always will

See, I have a problem: I'm a hoarder
I horde voices.
I horde the sound of laughs and cries,
I horde the angry and the happy times.
I take them all and keep them close.
And I try and keep phones for as long as I can.
Because when the phone goes,
So do the voices that I hold dear.

So darling if you wonder if I still have every old voicemail you've ever sent me the answer is clear.
If I miss you, I press my phone to my ear.

But now it's been so long that your voice scares me.
The old voicemails sit and take up my data since I'm too afraid to delete them.
That means your gone forever
And while I may have broken your heart I hope you forgive me
And I hope this voicemail makes you smile.

Once upon a time there was a girl.
She wasn't preppy or outgoing
Rather, she was depressed
She would sit on her room and cry for random periods of time
All just waiting for people to bust through her door to help her smile
But she knows deep down she has to learn
She has to learn to help herself
To let herself smile even when she's sad
She has to learn that she needs to find techniques that help and soothe.
But until then she'll keep looking for new hiding places to cry
And she'll wonder how she can lift herself from the mud
Without help of those around her

I think my problem arises from a chaotic childhood.
No, I'm not saying it was traumatic but
I learned at a young age that I didn't belong anywhere
And I think the problem with my relationships today
Is that I felt that being lonely so long,
And finding someone like him
who wanted me dearly
And wants me still
instilled in me a will to never be alone again.
But it seems, it comes all too natural to me.
My problem is that I want to be with someone.
I want to belong to someone.
I want to be the person that someone comes home to...
Maybe that's just my fatal flaw?
That being so alone even in a house I used to call home
No four walls feel quite right
No pair of arms reach the core of me
I guess I've made a bed and begun to live
In the halfway house of sin
Making my way to strangers beds to see which one will be strong enough to wed
But sadly that's not the point of one-night stands.
That once the deed is done we follow the path of the walk of shame
Carrying our heels and dragging our dignity down a road to what we supposedly call home.
Not all the girls along the road are hoes some are simply misguided fools.
Such as I, when I was kicked from a bed after laying by his side
I had a little too much to drink and stumbled my way home, to face the mirror which hung on my door like a veil
To face a friend with a past like mine
To tell her all just to be told I was an idiot.
It's just my flaw
That I fall for words instead of actions it will surely be my fall
For no amount of painted skin or blanketed lies will stop me from adopting another vice to add to my collection.
Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and *** my god I've become such a mess.
The lonely girls are always easy targets.
You bribe them with drinking or drugs and a promise of a passion filled kiss to soothe the raging monster inside them,
Now you have them at your mercy.
Eventually, they go numb and forget that they are lonely.
They forget that they want to belong to someone
That they want to create a home for someone
And the four walls of different rooms become sanctuary maybe a night or two,
As this turned nomadic soul turns to her vices
And waits for the one night stand that tells her to stay

I haven't experienced true love, but I'm a fluent speaker of the tainted.
The kind of love where no matter what they throw at you you're still there because you have no place else to be.
The kind that my daddy taught me.
That if you love a woman then you harm her and her children.
See, I've never experienced true love,
And because I was raised in a home without it, I'm at a loss of how to find it.
I don't know how to go about finding the love I want: the kind of love where we can just talk about nothing for hours.
But I certainly know how to attract the poisoned love that my father injected into my veins.
I know how to find the abusers.
The detached.
The lonely.
And no matter what I say I can't fix them.
And I don't want to anymore
Because I'm standing in my meadow waiting for a prince who probably won't come,
Or rather,
I'm waiting on the peasent to prove to me I don't need the knight or the prince at all
Just that I need to drain the toxins from my mind and heart and find it in me to love the one who offers me nothing
But yet brings me everything,
In return for one thing:
Me

She looks down at her body
And closes her blue eyes
It takes all of her self-control
To not start crying
Because as these girls are proclaiming
How proud they are to be skinny
The only thing she can think is
“I’m trying to be okay with myself.”
Because as she looks at her toes,
She sees her *******
And her stomach
And her feet
She thinks she’s so fat
Or so ugly
But so do caterpillars
Before they realize their potential
For butterflies

I know that the whole thing about love is it's who you miss at 2pm when you're busy, not 2am when you're lonely.
Baby it's 8:50pm and I'm as lonely as I've ever been.

I can't stand my friends when they're with their other, my love life is lived through them.
Its not that I want what they have,
Its that I want to feel warm arms around my body instead of the cold embrace of my AC.

It's that I want someone to run shivers down my back by placing their cold hands on my bare side and allow my body heat to warm them.
Its that I want to feel a deep passionate love.

Its that all it ever is is me and me alone.

Is that what you thought when I told you we were done?

Did you think to yourself "I hope you enjoy the cold arms of the lovers who don't actually love you?"
"You'll miss the way I looked at you"
"You'll miss the way I kissed you"
"You'll miss the way I loved you"

Did you think how happy you would be to see me so sad?
Because you know I can't help myself and I can't stay away from you,
Even if you're poison to my veins.

Did you, in after being months apart, me running to you, looking for shelter from the rain, have the joy in seeing my face twist in agony as you push me away?

Did you ask yourself if I ever loved you,
And convince yourself I didn't?
If leaving you twice times the same way was so simple so must the third
But darling I'm falling.

I'm falling into pits of my own darkness.

I saw a pencil sharpener and took out the blade.
I cleaned it and hid it and think about it every day.
And right after the thought of that I think of you and what you would say

You May not be my 2pm thought
But you're my thought at 9pm
When I tell my demons no
And throw my blade away.

Everyone always wants to live in the fast lane.
And they all tell me I should do the same.
But why should I?

I don't want to run by people who could enrich my life
I don't want to go a hundred miles a minute.

I want to enjoy life.
Stop and smell the flowers,
Not see them and say "oh how pretty"

I want to love hard,
Not much.

I want to feel the soft embrace of a dedicated lover
Not just of everyone who throws an offer my way.

If I'm being completely honest
As long as I reach the air and finally feel my colors change
I'm okay with whatever happens around me

And maybe when I jump in a car with some pals and scream with them "ROAD TRIP"
I'm okay with running a hundred miles a minute.

But someone, once I'm in that left lane,
Please remind me to stop and breathe.
Remind me that life isn't just the wind blowing in my hair or the music turned up loud

Life itself is hidden in the dull moments.

And don't just remind me that life is worth living through those dull moments
Remind me to cherish how slow things can go.
How beautiful people get when they show you their souls
And only in dull moments and awkward silences can you see that in them

Only in loneliness can you find out who you are when you stand alone

Always remind me of those things
Because when you start running like that you get addicted to the adrenalin

But if you slow down,
If you see how people are made of comets and stardust
Maybe you can see that you yourself are, too.

If you live your life in the left lane,
How can you take the proper exit?
The exits that hold the best times are off to the right.

Don't tell me to live in the fast lane.
I don't want to brush past people
I don't want to be inside this shell that keeps me from slowing down

Thanks for your offer, but I think I'm well off
I have flowers to smell and people to meet

My life is falling apart at my seams,
Im crying and im fighting,
Pulling out my hair and skin as i try to comprehend whats happened to us,

What happened to me?
What happened to you?
What have we become?

I dont even know which person im talking about anymore.
But the message is still the same for all of you

Im wounded and I'm scaring up now.
Im stressed and tugging at the skin again.
Hardly eating, barely breathing again.
Not living again.

But of course some of you dont know ive been in so much trouble before.
All you know is what I've told you, and that doesn't mean ive told you everything

Someone, im begging
Look into these eyes of mine and see whos really trapped inside
Shes screaming for help, crying even
But she doesnt know where exactly to turn

She knows noone is looking for her because they seem to enjoy her persona.
They seem to like how guarded she is and how much of a mystery she beholds.

Someone, please, see the zipper on my back and shed my facadé.
Someone help me reach myself.
Because the zipper is too far up my spine,
I can't reach it by myself, my arms don't bend that way.

And if noone is willing to help me, that's okay.
I understand it's a selfish thing to ask of you to save me.

But if you think of all the times I've helped you when you were in crisis of self,
Wouldn't it soothe your mind to help me be at peace as well?

No never mind, forget I said anything.
I'll just stay here with my arms bending in every direction,
Until I can finally grasp that zipper and let her breathe the fresh air once more.
Because after all,
Even superman needs a rest from flying high all the time.

I cant stand to see you this way
From your drooping eyelids to this cold stare youve begun to wear

I dont know who you are anymore
Some stranger who just happens to know the dark secrets i behold

My anxiety for who you tell is higher than before you fell

At first i waited and watched to see
How you would handle yourself to some degree
But the longer i stare the longer i wonder if youre even in there

Has this cold persona kicked you out of your skin?
I wonder where you have gone, my old friend.

Don't you worry about me, my darling.
My mental health can wait.
The worst thing I can do in this state,
Is sit and contemplate how I've royally ******* you over in life.

I'm sorry I was such an awful person.
I've tried to grow and stretch my reasoning,
But as far as I can tell I can't shake who I am.

I'm sorry, I wish it would have worked out.
I wish friendship was an option, but
It seems none of your family want me around so,
I'll just pack up my things and go.

Don't worry I'll leave you alone.
I'll leave my key back under the mat at your door step.
Don't worry about changing the locks, I've deleted your address from my GPS.

But I don't think I'll be able to ever forget where your mother lived,
Or the layout of your home.
I don't think I'll be able to reminisce,
Without tasting your blood on my lips.

I guess it goes to show you can't just keep people in your life that don't want to stay.
You can't keep handing them your heart
Over and over again.
When you're broken and can't repare,
That's how you stay broken, right there.

You'll bleed on the floor and cry their name,
They hold the piece to save you from your pain.
But they threw it down when your back was turned and walked away.

I guess that's what you get,
For trying to sing a desperately, happy tune in the rain.

I'll lay my soul on your tombstone

Sorry I missed the funeral darling but
I couldn't quite handle seeing you so bare in your casket

A sight so painful like the cuts I made on my wrists

Those pearls gracing your neck still pale in comparison to your beauty

Now that you're gone there's not much else to say
My days are a little more grey as every thought if you turns my head

Maybe you'll walk through the door undead
Killing my eyes with that bright laugh and smile
But it's alright I guess

I'll keep your memory just below my surface
Living in your memory using all my favorite vices

I smoke those herbs to numb it all
Bowls after bowls token up like Thomas the engine
Trying to get as high as possible to laugh so hard my tears stop being from sadness and start being from joy

I drink this patrone to forget it all
Feeling the burn of my favorite whiskey hitting my throat and slurring words a bit
Speaking so vague not even I know what I'm saying.

But it doesn't help

You're overloading my system every once in a while
With those eyes as pale blue as the sky on the last day we met

Never opening again, **** that hurts my soul

My dear it may have been four short years but
It all feels like yesterday I got that phone call

Telling me you're fighting for your breath
Telling me you might not make it
Telling me it's a time for prayer
Telling me you've been killed

But here's the deal
I've never been the spiritual type
The first thought that comes to mind when I go in road trips isn't to pray for safety
And I'm not sure why

Maybe because I prayed more in my life in the two hours between those phone calls telling me you've been hit, and when you died

Maybe because when I needed Him the most he didn't come to my rescue like everyone said he would

When I was staring at white walls and florescent bulbs waiting for the next meal
I would reject because I wanted to be hanging from a rope and noone should try to stop me

When I prayed to Him about wanting to take my own life he turned his back on me
It was as if it was meant to be

But then I sat staring at four white walls lying on a bed of nails contemplating how I made it there

Then I think about you
21 was to young to be murdered.
16 was to young to contemplate suicide.

I guess my point has been lost in traslation

But just to bring this to a close it's that your departure did more than **** you
It killed my faith
It killed my self worth
It killed me

But maybe it happened to bring me here.

You know I always have to put this positive twist here somewhere

I've settled in the university of my dreams with friends I couldn't have thought better of myself.

I've started blossoming In my poetry
Spittin these words straight from my notepad where four years ago noone would be able to stare at me this long without my anxiety destroying me inside and out

My dear, if you were still here
I don't know where I'd be today
Maybe I would have found some different passion
But I think I'm happier where I am
Then where I would have been
Had you never been taken from me

It's okay, really it is.

How can I expect you to save the little girl I am?

I can't expect you to drop everything for me.
My life's not that big of a travesty.

Why does she sit with tears in her eyes, when the only thing she can think of to cry about is that the person she wants, and they are not good for her?

Oh but she is a beautiful girl addicted to some really ugly things.
That cigarette smoke is running through her veins, that alcohol trip is inside her brain, her heart can't race and she can't keep up with your pace.

She'll slow a while and contemplate how her life has become such ruin.

And I bet you'll sit there wondering how crazy she is, and how she got there.
But the truth is, she isnt,
Because she's just a perfectly flawed human.

What would you do if I said I missed you?
Would you laugh?
Cry?
Scream at me?
I wouldn't be surprised, honestly.
Nor would I blame you.
Because of all the people in the world, the world's biggest train wreck chose YOUR heart to shatter.
Not once.
Not twice.
Not even three times.
But four.
Over and over again.
If you wonder how someone could do that to someone, it's not because I wanted to.
It's not that I was waiting for you to fall in love with me for me to destroy you in a different way every time.
It's that even if I give my heart a thousand chances, it'll break itself a thousand times.
It's that I was and am confused by my mind enough to hurt those around me and for that I am sorry.
I don't think I could apologize enough for you to believe me for a fifth time,
because darling I'm the girl who cried wolf and I always will be.
I may want something but *******
I'm too scared to follow through with anything and I see that now.
Not saying I didn't see it before but oh god do I see it now.

And with my monologue complete for now I bid you farewell.
And I apologize that I'm such a train wreck.

She's beautiful
And I don't mean the kind of beauty where we judge your waist and breast size
I mean she's beautiful for the way she holds her head when the world is shutting down her brilliance
She's beautiful for the way her eyes sparkle when she has nothing to hide
She's even beautiful when her salty tears fall on pavement
Not no one will see her beauty the way I do.
The way when she wakes up and the first thing she does is let her hair down, and comb through it with her fingertips.
The way she will bring you to your knees with words
That's how she's beautiful
and how beautiful to me is she

I'm starting to miss the way you talked to me.
It wasn't totally obsessive or anything,
But you'd read my poetry and say it's fantastic.
No, that wasn't the word you'd use.
You'd say I was brilliant.

I'm starting to miss how you would sing to me.
It's not that you had the best singing voice but,
You tried hard for me and I liked that.

I'm starting to miss the way you would make fun of my bookshelf,
Because it's almost fallen on me many times from the weight of my collection.

And as I'm writing this poem I'm staring out my bedroom window.
Staring at the sky and hoping someday you'll get lonely and knock softly at the door.

Baby,
I don't know what's come over me
Suddenly all my thoughts point to you and
Maybe it's just that I miss the way you'd tickle my side while I'm reading on the couch
And you'd proclaime to the world "you're such a little nerd, I love you so much."

What happened to that?
What happened to all those late night calls or early morning messages?
What happened to "sleep well my beautiful baby, I'll see you in your dreams"?
How did it evolve into "okay bye"?

I refuse to say I miss you,
Because it's not true.

I'm sorry. I'm a terrible liar.

I don't miss you so much that I miss the memories.

I'm sorry, I'm lying again.

I don't miss the way you'd get angry at me for not talking to you when I'm in the middle of class.

I don't miss the way you'd yell at me just because I wouldn't come home one weekend because I needed to focus.

I don't miss how you treated me.

But what I do miss,
Is the way I could feel your body shiver when I kissed your cheek.
The way I fit so perfectly on your side
Or
The way your eyes sparkled when you said you loved me for the first time

I guess what I'm trying to say is I loved US together,
And I miss it.
But no, my darling,
I don't miss you.

You know I'm lying, don't you?

But my real question after all if this,
And after I say I don't miss you I guess it's a pointless question to ask,

But after all we've been through you know I can't lie to you to save my life
As you can see
Clearly I do miss you

But I was just wondering,
And don't make fun of a girl whos weak in the knees for you.
Do you miss me too?

Darling I'm not the same as I was back then,
I thought comets and stars were things in the sky
Until I looked around one day to find
That they're in as many people
As they are in my mind

No one is really ever the same, you see
Everything changes you and me
Every thought and action we do will lead
Into another alternate reality.

What if we turned left instead of right that one day?
Would we have met with early demise?
Or would we have gotten that job we had hoped to find?

See these are the things that are constantly on my mind
For I can't help but contemplate how the stars align
To bring us closer together or further apart
Or weather or not you see someone's true heart.

I guess it's a difficult concept for some to grasp
I mean even I am having a momentary lapse of reason

I guess that's just part of being human
Thinking about what's bigger about us
Or what could bring our downfall

So many of us just sit and contemplate what it means to be in this body
And the longer we think about it the more uncomfortable we become with ourselves

Because with how our world works if you're not a size zero through nine you're not worth the time of the males searching for mates.

Or if the muscles in your stomach don't look like a six-pack then you're not a very good looking male in the first place.

But if you sit and think about how to make this world crumble
You'll see how everyone thinks they're nothing.
But if you tell a girl or guy they're made of stardust and clear skies
They'll laugh and call you a dreamer.

Maybe I am,
Or maybe that's what poets are
Dreamers who think the world is pretty terrible
So they string lines together to create a scenario to help others see the bigger picture

That everyone is made from stardust.
That everyone is beautiful.

Never tell me of my imperfections.
For it is my imperfections that make me who i am.

Dont make fun of the way i scratch my nose or wiggle my toes.
The idiosyncrasies i have make me what i am and what i will become.

Or rather who I will become.
Because I am not a what or will or whim or a dream.
I am a human just being in time and space.

Flittering around on a pinpoint of a globe I call home because I don't know what else to do with my existence.

I didnt come out of the womb knowing exactly what i would do one day.
Nor did I come knowing of all the lives I would impact upon.
I didnt come knowing who i am and how my personality would affect My lifespan.

I came out with sparkles in my eyes and a hunger to prove i belong in a society that doesn't want to approve of anyone in the first place.

They say that all little white girls like me are privileged.
Though they know everyone has a different struggle.
Society is a hypocrite.

One second it'll say that people like me are accepted.
The cracked, the gay, the rebel.
But then it's confused.
Because I'm pale white with blonde hair and blue eyes.
How could this mixture even be?

I dyed my hair when I was young because I was tired of being called ditzy.
I wore colored contacts because I thought my eyes were to bright for such a somber world.
It wasn't until I was older.

It wasn't until I was wiser.
That I realized that there is no such thing as society.
The brain is so complex and we are all so focused on fitting in that we created an invisible standard for ourselves.

Blacks are "ghetto"
Whites are "privlaged"
And every other racial color is bled from the picture.
Society,
This invisible standard,
Started hounding me from a young age, telling me my thighs and arms were always to big.

Or that I was less because I didn't wear makeup everyday like every other 15 year old trying to fit in.
The invisible standard would cut me down until I cut myself open at the seams.
Bleeding onto the pages of textbooks and papers that I need to "get somewhere" in life.

Bleeding onto those job applications that say that you need experience to earn the experience to get experience for the job that you need to pay for the student loans you had to get in order to earn that degree to get the job.

The invisible standard tells me that little pale skined, blonde haired, blue eyed girls like me who can't handle their ***** need to always look over their shoulder otherwise I'll be taken or drugged or *****.

That all little girls fathers have to stand at the door holding a shotgun telling a boy that he's not good enough for her.

But why
Isn't that the question.
Why does the father have to hold the shotgun?
Can't he raise her well enough that she knows a healthy relationship from a harmful one?

Or can he raise her well enough to know if a boy is treating her right or wrong?

The invisible standard we have set for ourselves is telling each of us we don't belong in the world.
That all of these pale white girls with blonde hair and blue eyes are fragile

But at the same time they are the dumb ones.

Obviously if I was dumb I wouldn't be here.
If I was what society has called me out to be I wouldn't be over a piece of paper pouring words from my psyche onto it with such a force that shook the foundation of society itself.

Because that's the thing about this invisible standard.

There's nothing that you actually have to prove to it because it doesn't even exisit.