I hate mirrors,
Or,
I hate the girl who looks back at me
When I stare into them.

She isn’t me,
I mean, she is,
Literally,
But she doesn’t feel like me.

She likes singing,
And dancing,
And drawing.
She has a good sense of humor
And a funny laugh
That makes everyone else laugh, too.
She snores in her sleep
And grinds her teeth.
Mostly though,
She’s scared.
Of people,
Of the future,
Of talking to girls..

I don’t really know what I like yet,
Or if I’m good at singing,
Or drawing.
I don’t know If im funny,
Or how my laugh sounds.
Do I snore,
And grind my teeth?
Will I be scared?

That all doesn’t really matter,
Anyway,
I don’t hate her,
I envy the way she’s lived so long,
And despise the way she’s taken it for granted;
When I would give anything
To live
Like her.

“ Separation of the mind
From the body
Will set you up for failure, "

I tell myself
Again,
And again,
And again.

I’ve formed this habit;
When things get too hard,
I just disconnect.
Like a flipped switch,
I’m just not me
Anymore.

I'm staring
at the back of my head
watching myself
write this poem.

Sometimes
I wish God,
Or some universal power,
Would force us together.

I wish,
Late at night I wish
That I’ll go to therapy and see you there,
Because I know you have issues, too,
And maybe,
Just maybe,
It’ll be fate
That we meet there.

And maybe,
I wish, when I go to the zoo,
That you’ll be working your summer job,
Well, it’s not summer anymore,
And I don’t think you work anymore.

I hope I’ll see you again,
So I can apologize
For never saying sorry,
And for never telling you
Everything that you knew.