I'll **** this up.

I'll say the wrong thing. I'll make the wrong comment. I'll wear the wrong thing. I'll make the wrong silly face at exactly the wrong time.

I get annoying. The quirks aren't so fun when they're really my personality. The weird isn't so cute when it bursts out of the seams of my existence.

I'll inevitably **** you off. It's not that I'll try. It's that the brain to mouth filter needs replaced at best, is absolutely irreparably broken in truth. It's that social cues aren't my forte. It's that I see the world through a lens that it's hard for others to share.

And yet, I'll battle against the self doubt every day. And yet, I have hope that I'm wrong. And yet, I believe I can still be loved.

I am tornado
Hurricane
Cyclone
Spiraling out of control

I never stopped to consider the collateral damage.

I've made a good mess of my life.

Lost everyone that had just started to matter
By being me.

This is why I never leave my house.

I still dream of a white dress
And have the color scheme in mind
I'm not a wearer of heels, anyway
So barefoot amongst the grass I'll go

I know who I'd want there,
Watching me take this second
Go.
A second chance.

I still believe I can do this
The right way
The way I deserve
I still believe that someday I may have
A happily ever after

I probably should have healed
The part of me that is wild
Before I touched you.

The problem is, I believe that love can exist
In duality
To who we are as people.

I'll never send you this ******* poem, for instance,
But I wish you'd read it all the same.

I never meant to hurt anyone on my constant downward spiral, least of all you.
Least of all, you.

Maybe someday it can be different.
Probably not, I'm really good at ruining **** for myself.
But maybe.