my hair is an array is an array of fluorescent and inorganic colors,
i listen to indie rock like its my religion,
my best friend is my mother,
i go to bed early and still drag my feet in the morning,
my most prized possession is a sea shell i found,
i resort to self-deprecation in awkward situations,
my favorite t-shirts have sarcastic jokes or history references on them,
i cry when i am angry, sad, or happy,
my diet consists of only coffee ice cream and saltine crackers,
i cannot help but to care what people think of me,
my worst fear is wasting my time,
i am only seen wearing the same pair of old skate shoes even though
i don't know how to skateboard
my babysitting paychecks are spent on looseleaf tea,
i don't read as much as i should,
my worst habit is procrastinating,
sometimes i think i'm addicted to ibuprofen,
and i overanalyze everything i do to the point of hysteria

but you
you you you you you you you

you pretend to look past all this

i can still feel your judgement,
anticipate your rejection,
and foresee myself waking up tomorrow more miserable than today

yet somehow

your words say something else
they speak of my "overwhelming beauty"
they praise my "individuality and intellect"
your lips whisper tales about my "sensuality and passion"
they conjure up compliments that flood my cheeks with color

i melt, for a second

then i convince myself that you must be lying
for truths cannot contradict