It's hard to accept
and harder to admit
but I do a lot of things
that don't make sense.

I'm often asked why
because people don't get it.
But there's not much to get,
it's just how I like to live it.

I take the long way home
just to see the view,
I waste gas and drive for hours
just to feel brand new.

I'll drive two miles more
and pass three stores on the way
because the fourth one is my favorite
and those people make my day.

I spend money and time
on what most people avoid,
but I do things however
they can be most enjoyed.

How much can you pile
on a paper plate
before it bends and bends
and finally breaks?

But the question is
what is to blame?
Is the plate too weak
or holding too much weight?

Glass and plastic can break too
if they're carrying bricks.
So before you choose your helping
find your strength and then pick.

Each day is like a Rubik's Cube
Complex, confused, without a plan
I try to align it perfectly
But it seems I never can.

All day I'm trying hard to solve
the exhausting, tiresome and endless fight
Trying to figure out the perfect way
to have the same colors on every side.

No matter my efforts, I'm always left with
One orange in the yellow, two blues in the red,
three greens in the white,
forty thoughts in my head.

I could cheat and switch the stickers
I could call and ask a friend
I'm not good at solving problems
But at least I can pretend

But when push turns into shove
I can't solve it by aimlessly shifting
I can't learn it by aimlessly watching
And I can't live by aimlessly drifting

So no longer will I sit back and watch
other people figure out my life for me
I'll take my time and color my sides
Because no one can live life for me.

Have you ever
noticed when you
look at the trees
in the winter
they're all brown
once they've lost all their leaves?

Except one,
the Sycamore.
It stands proud and white,
It shines bright
like a star
on the darkest of nights.

But the Sycamore isn't
white on its own.
Like the rest, it is brown,
Then it sheds
its rough bark
and is the brightest around.

So when you're lost
and you're wondering
just how you should be,
shed your bark
and shine bright
like a Sycamore tree.

We give thanks to the managers,
the presidents and CEOs.
We give thanks to the owners,
the govenors and heroes.

We give thanks to the leaders,
for all that they do.
We give thanks to the mayors,
and the supervisors too.

We see what they do,
and give thanks every day.
For roles so important,
don't they deserve all the praise?

But what about the one
who cleans up the mess,
that you didn't even consider
picking up when you left?

And what about the one
who holds open the door,
for ten hours each day
all while being ignored?

And what about the one
who drives you around?
In a car all day driving
rushed and rude people to town.

We admire the collage,
and we thank the artist too.
But do we ever take the time
to stop and thank the glue?

What would hold it together
if it were not there?
Who would pick up after you,
or drive you from here to there?

All the people in charge
may create a masterpiece,
but without the glue to hold it,
it would all just fall to pieces.

Where'd you go, self?
Where are you?
Are you hiding away,
or afraid to shine through?

Why don't you come
around anymore?
Did you get swept
up in the world?

Did you change who you are?
Did you buy a disguise?
Are you the one hiding,
or did I close my eyes?

Do you just have
too much to do?
Or am I the one
who's too busy for you?

Are you too ashamed
to show your face?
Why are you running?
Unlike others, I'll chase.

I'll be back
In a few days.
I've got to find myself,
Before I'm too far away.

I don't fit in
And I don't stand out
I just blend in
And get lost in the crowds

I'm just another person
On just another street
I don't know anybody
And nobody knows me

But things worth exploring
Aren't always explored
And things worth adoring
Aren't always adored

I'm just another face
Just another girl
But if you don't explore the oyster
You'll never find the pearl