I’m the shy and the weird and the try to be cute all the time but fails miserably.
I’m unwanted by others and the wanted by some
And the “ignore her she acts invisibly anyways.”
I’m the insomniac and the depressed and the anxiety attacks.
I’m the prey and the predator and the bystander.
I’m the failure and the miserable and the screams for help.
I am one person, and that is myself.
I’m the friend of the man in the moon and the secret keeper and the one not to seek attention.
I’m the not so perfect soul and the not so gifted and the not so smart.  
I’m the sadness in my mind and the happiness around the corner and the mixed emotions left behind.                      
I’m the undecided and the bad influence and the annoying.
I’m the one who has lost all feeling and the one who gain feeling back and the one who makes her pillow catch tears when someone else can’t.
I’m the strong and the weak and the average.
I’m the book smarts and the common sense and the *******.
I’m the one and only kind of me out there and I embrace myself.
I am myself.