I want to be someone.
I want to be that cool kid.
Who sets trends.
Who isn't afraid to sing horribly.
And loudly.
And isn't afraid to dance in the middle of the street.
I want to be someone.
Who's happy with how they look.
At least for the most part.
Who isn't afraid to ask a guy out.
Especially when we have been just friends for too long.  
I want to be someone.
Who is up for anything.
Honestly.
Who isn't afraid to climb a mountain.
I want to be someone.  
Who is invincible.
But accepts defeat proudly.
In a way that is only mine.
And in a way that is inspiring to others.
I want to be an inspiration.
Too.
Someone that others look up to.
And think.
I want to be like her.
I want to be someone.
Who's carefree.
I want to be someone.
Who feels loved.
And doesn't try so hard to act a certain way.
I want to be known for me and only me.
I want to love.
I want to dance in the rain.
I want to let my hair down and not care.
About anyone else.
Or anything else.
I want to be someone.
Who gets an A.
And feels good about it.
Who can brag.
But not upset anyone.
Who people don't mock.
When they do better.
Or know more.
I want to do yoga.
And drink tea.
I want to be someone.
Who stays up late having conversations.
Deep ones.
About the universe.
And God.
And everything that comes to mind.
I want to feel religion.
I want to feel joy.
I want to feel pain.
Good pain.
From falling off a bike.
Or coughing on river water.
I want to stop taking pills.
I want to be someone.
Who is happy.
With me.
With life.
With everything.
Who laughs at fear.
Who doesn't feel darkness.
I want to be someone.

I'm no longer a child
When my heart gets trampled on,
When it is crushed like
Coffee beans inside the grinder.
I'm no longer a child
When I fly alone,
My fate tied to a lifeless metal bird
To solemn to cry.
I'm no longer a child,
When I walk down the street alone,
A stranger in your neighborhood.
I'm still a child,
When Im homesick all the time,
When I cry for my mother
To hold my hand.
I'm still a child
When I'm scared of the dark,
When the comforter is more
Protection than comfort.
I'm still a child
Even though I'm no longer a child.

It might just be the butterflies
In my stomach
Or the ants
In my pants.
Or the beads of sweat,
Glistening like pearls
On my skin,
Or may just be me.
I'm walking out alone
David facing the Goliath of
My nightmares,
Tall and dark
And I'm nervous.
What if everything goes wrong?
Does anyone ever wonder:
What if everything goes right?

I am a foreigner
A stranger,
Unimportant,
I am nothing but the green screen
Background to your
Ocean.
I blend in
Like paint being rolled,
Like the foundation
You rub on your face,
To hide the blemishes you think you have
I am a stranger,
Setting off the red alert
Alarms,
Though I am no more a threat
Than ice cream.
Think nothing of me,
But silently accept my presence
As ordinary to your world,
As if I'm nothing but a tree in it.

I'm writing again
I'm breathing again
After weeks and weeks of holding
My breath
And it feels so good

Is what we seemed to have
Labeled as
Truth.
Lies are fiction.
Or so we say.
Fiction is what we make up and
What we make up isn't real.
Or so we think.
Non fiction is the boring facts
About someone's life,
All stretched out on a line
Going twice around the world
Before it gets back to us.
But what if fiction is just as much
Truth
As non fiction?
What if we aren't making facts up
But only embellishing
On the inner, whispered facts of
Ourselves,
The inner battle we hold,
And it comes out
Fiction

Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Why do we wash bath towels?
Aren't we clean when we use them?
How do I respond to your silence?
Why do you hate yourself?
Does this really matter?

My hands are dyed.
Dyed as in permanent
Until death do us part.
But I died my hands.
Died as in permanent,
Until death do us part.
Dead,
Dyed,
Died,
Dye,
Die.

What do I shove in first?
My suitcase an empty canvas
A blank page,
Which I can fill with whatever I want
But also whatever I need.
I have to think about the future.
I have to assume I'll need
This and
This and
This.
And I will make it out alive
To buy my sister
This and
This and
This.