I was never supposed to be this girl.

I was supposed to be Dark.
I was supposed to be to Depressed.
I was supposed to be Angry.
I was supposed to be Rebellious.
I was supposed to be Alone

I was supposed to be the type to cry myself to sleep.
I was supposed to be the type to cut myself at night.
I was supposed to be the type to be misunderstood.
I was supposed to be the type to be judged.
I was supposed to be the type to hate and be hated.

But
I am not exactly who I was supposed to be.

I am still Angry.
I am still rebellious.
I am still misunderstood.

But

I am not alone.
I am loved those around me.

I do not hate,
And I am not hated.
Because I worked to tear down the walls I built.

I am not who I was supposed to be,
And that's okay with me.

Because who I am turned out to be better.
I turned out to be more than I thought I could be.

I realized something.

I realized that parts of me that were "supposed to be"
never were.
I realized that parts of who I am were always "supposed to be.

I realized that parts of me will always be the same.

I will always want to rebel.
I will always feel a little dark
Or depressed.
I will always be angry at the unfairness of the world.
"Who I Am" and "Who I Was Supposed To Be"
Will always be intermixed.

But

It is in that mixture that the True Me has formed.
I will never be somethings,
And always be others.

But

It is in those things that I will find
Who I Am To Become

And I guess I'll figure that out as I go.

I'm not supposed to hate you.

I'm not supposed to think you're stupid.
I'm not supposed to want to run away.
I'm not supposed to think you're wrong.
I'm not supposed to talk back.
I'm not supposed to have an opinion.
I'm not supposed to be right.
I'm not supposed to want to hit you.
I'm not supposed to want to swear.
I'm not supposed to question your love.
I'm not supposed to think you're a bad person.
I'm not supposed to be scared of you.
I'm not supposed to want to scream.
I'm not supposed to want to hide.
I'm not supposed to want to break things.
I'm not supposed to hate you with every fiber in my body.

but I do...

I’m supposed to be happy right now
Fitting into dresses and stretch pants
And eating pickles
I’m supposed to be glowing
Watching my tummy grow
And picking out the perfect name
I would’ve known by now
Whether you’d be born a girl or boy
What color your room might be
I’m supposed to be emotional
But a different type than I am now
I’m supposed to cry over things
Like spilled milk
And unlikely animal friends
But I’m crying over emptiness instead
Loneliness
Fear
I’m not supposed to be sad right now
I’m supposed to be measuring my belly
And eating lots of fruit
Going to doctors
And listening to your tiny heartbeat
I’m supposed to be there
I’m supposed to be overjoyed
And excited
And worried
I’m supposed to be making plans
And decorating and redecorating
And driving your daddy crazy
I am supposed to be a mom
I should be looking at tiny clothes
And little shoes we’ll use once
Buying dehumidifiers and strollers
Reading pamphlets and dodging cravings
I should be complaining
About stretch marks and growing feet and sweaty palms
I should be loving every inch of you already
And struggling with stupid simple tasks
I should be moody
And impossible
And hungry
And eager to meet my tiny human
My sweet baby
My whole heart...
But I’m not.
I’m supposed to be pregnant
And I’m not
I’m supposed to be waiting for you
And I can’t
Because I lost you.
Because you’re already gone.
And all I have left of you is memories
Of cravings and emotions and ideas
A doctors visit and a photo of my first test
A faint pink line
I’m supposed to be halfway there...
And I’m not

I'm supposed to take a test on Tuesday
about some Bill of Rights, Constitution, founding fathers *******
I've been hearing about this **** for what seems like a never ending river of forever but I'm still failing that test.
I'm supposed to take a test on tuesday about everything I'm supposed to have absorbed from the beginning of September to now, in my political systems class in my senior year of high school
political systems, systems of politics
Can you teach me about our government TODAY
in two-thousand-and-thirteen so I can have
at least some delusional illusion that I know
at least a fraction of what the **** is going on

I should be memorizing each amendment on the Bill of Rights
which was written long enough ago
instead of morning coffee
there'd be lines of blow, legally
my mom, would be billing the hospital for the right to my captivity
if I tried to convince everyone that dancing is good for your ******* soul
after smoking a bowl and doing a line I'd sign on the dotted line
"no man is above or below shaking their ***** until the lights stop to glow"

Am I the only outraged kid in here?
Am I the only person who believes this country's worsened-and if we're learning about our country
put me back in US history because I barely passed my sophomore year
I barely passed the year before that one too
and not because of my report card

I'm supposed to take a test on Tuesday, on the Bill of Rights, and how it applies with the passing of time but if there's one Bill I know that's right, it's my boy Billy
when he gets real silly and stomps his feet to the beat like the street's ******* ground meat and he's the butcher

I'm supposed to take a test on Tuesday, I'm also supposed to go to work at 3
I'm supposed to stay in good shape and not turn in any schoolwork late
and Cotillion's soon so I gotta find a date

I'm supposed to go to college next year to get more knowledge but my mind is still lost somwhere between
I've seen too many scary pink ***** too young
I've felt too many scary pink licks too young
now I always think people are out to get me
so I walk around looking strung out on amphetamines
waiting for the earth to crumble beneath me
So when I was supposed to be taking notes on the Boston Tea Party
Please excuse me if I was a little busy
trying to hold the delicious wishes of dying at bay

So I'm kind of proud to say
I'm ******* alive today
and on Tuesday I'm supposed to take some test
but this, this moment is my very own test
I'm studying to be my very own best
version of a classmate, a student, a friend, a daughter
and someone I can listen to every waking moment
and someone I can stand up to when the right to my free will is challenged

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I wasn’t supposed to fall so hard
I wasn’t supposed to call out for your arms in the night
And my lips weren’t supposed to search for yours
As if they would actually be there.
I wasn’t supposed to nuzzle into my pillow at night
pretending that your hands were nestled in my hair
I wasn’t supposed to make small talk
just so I could hypnotize myself with that something in your eyes
I wasn’t supposed to wake up cold in the gray morning
with the strong urge to be bruised and bitten
In fits of slow, languid passion.

Unreal how our bodies match and move together,
Uncanny how our minds meld and play in synch.
My youthful love for life,
Your chuckling maturity, still unsure what life is.

Now I play soft ballads full of aching, yearning,
I can wrap myself in a blanket on the floor
With a mug of tea, and think silently on you
And the shadows I wish I could conjure into existence…
They live inside, dancing to burst free from our guilty bodies
Too ethereal, too beautiful, to be abandoned
When we (artists) know we live for such wonders.

I wish I had any other option but forgetting,
or descending into madness.
(I’m currently choosing madness..?)

And it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I wasn’t supposed to fall so hard.
I’m so sorry,
My summer love.

I'm not supposed
To want to stay.
I'm not supposed
To be looking for a home
To be looking for some kind of
Haven.

I'm not supposed
To want roots
Solidified in the ground,
That was probably why
I was homeless off and on
Since I was small--
Well, smaller.

I'm not supposed to want to grow
In one place.
I'm not supposed to be the person
Who wants to stick around,
Even when they're not wanted.

I only stick around
When I'm wanted around,
Anyway.

I'm not supposed
To want to feel your hand in mine.

I'm not supposed to want to see
Glimmering blue eyes
Surrounded by sunset oranges and reds
Spiraling around seafoam blues and greens,
Smiling at me.

I'm not supposed to be honest.

I'm not supposed to be raw.

I'm supposed to be
Bare feet slamming down hard
Once they hit the gravel pavement.
The dirt road,
The sand path.

I'm supposed to be running and sprinting
As quickly and swiftly as I can
Until my lungs burn
And the rise and fall of my chest is too much.

I'm supposed to be

Bangles and jewelry
Clacking and clanging
And jingling like a bell
As I walk on air across the room
In a long flowing skirt
And puffy sleeves,
To read your mind
Or see your future.

I'm supposed to be
Crystal *****
And tarot cards.
Tea leaves
And the lines on your palms.

Instead

I am craving to belong,
I am breathing cold fall air,
I am sentimental pieces of paper
Meaning a whole hell of a lot more to me
Than golden coins and jewels.

I am the owner of a stuffed lion,
Not a real one,
That means the world to me
Because he was an imaginary friend for too long,
Until we bought him a body.

And I am squeezing your hand too hard when I remember
What happened to all the people I love
That intended on staying,
Not the flighty insects who flew away.

I am a hopeless romantic,
I am a believer of red strings
And a circle of life and things that are meant to happen that happen.

I am sitting here believing in
Meant to be
Story book endings
Higher powers that don't like getting involved
Angels that do
Tears stains that are worth it
Standing back up even when it hurts,
And a lucky scarf.

I am full of not supposed to be's
And meant to be's
And self-doubt
And ire
And fear
And Getting back up's
And Saying **** it's
And Doing the scary thing anyway's.

I am sarcasm
And rage
And tears that burn my eyes and choke my vocal chords.

But I've got running away running through my veins
But I want nothing more
Than to stay.

This is for the soul searchers
This is for the song writer who feels like who he is doesn’t fill the space

of who he was meant to be. This is for the depressed cigarette smoking chain smokers.
This is for the poet who writes a thousand lines and keeps them all to
herself, because nobody else deserves to hear them.
This is to fight the starless sky of every midnight wanderer who looks up
wondering, cause if there were more like you the night time streets wouldn’t be so empty.
This is for the traveler who never got a chance and lies below a rock with
his name.
I don’t even know if I’m old enough to say it, but it’s for the generations
of baby boomers of old women and men whose ideas and values are shushed by an obnoxious generation.
This is for the wedding planners whose weddings never seem to come.
This is for the beautiful girls that somebody told otherwise.
This is for the 15 year old gang member who can’t leave.
This is for the second place finishers and the C students.
This is for the guitar strings never threaded and the scripts never
written and the thrill voices that never cried hallelujah because they didn’t believe they could.
This is for the incapable,
Because you and me both are incapable.
This is so you can look at me differently like I was an amputee.
And what I’ve had cut away was my expectations.
I was supposed to be huge—
I was supposed to be the first rose ever planted in the desert—
I was supposed to be the first paint on the ceiling in the Sistine chapel—
I was supposed to be either Axel Rose or Frodo Baggins, and whether
you’re cool or not you understand that line.
I was supposed to be the first pope with a full body tattoo—
I was supposed to be Neil Armstrong—
I was supposed to be the first life on another planet—
I was supposed to be bleeding iron and nails—
If you saw me as I was supposed to be the contrast between me and the
rest of the world would be unbearable, but I’m incapable.
‘Cause nobody ever pushed me,
Nobody ever pushed me,
Nobody ever pushed me and said:
Be something bigger,
Be something bigger,
Be something!

Nobody ever told me I had the power to leave a hole when I withdraw
my hand from water or move a crowd with mere words or play notes on a piano like bullets to your eardrums.
And in all of this, I wonder if the big things know how important they
are, because I’m a mustard seed and nobody expects me to move a mountain,
Or even cover its slopes in yellow.
But I still feel vastly important, so what then?
So this is my push, my push that you may never get from another person, ever. So, listen carefully:

I EXPECT A LOT OUT OF YOU.

Don’t be discouraged when you can’t cross one line, ‘cause you’ll pass a
hundred others learning you can’t go over one.
This is a dare: go to your fridge and get out all your eggs and put them in
one basket and tell me if you’re still incapable.
And if you are, go back to your fridge and get all your egg based
products, ‘cause you missed them, you missed them and you need them and the neighbors not lending any ingredients.
And when you get there, wherever it is that I pushed you to, don’t worry
about telling me—
Cause I
Will notice
And most of all remember that if you’ve been pushed, if you’ve really
been pushed, you’ll be dearly missed when you’re gone.

                                                         -Marty Schoenleber III

There was a shooting in Redstone
Only one man dead, none hurt
He was found dead in the morning
With just one hole right through his shirt

He was lying in the main street
Face down, right there in the dirt
He was found dead in the morning
With just one hole right through his shirt

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

The crowd had formed around him
Lying there, all hard and cold
No witnessess to the shooting
At least not one so bold

They knew him from his weapon
The sixteen notches on the grip
He came in on the Flyer
He won't be on the return trip

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

He was staying at The Belfry
He only brought one bag to town
No one knew why he had come here
Except to shoot somebody down

The papers ran the story
The next morning in THE SUN
They ran a picture and a story
Of the "Man With The Pearl Gun"

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

The story was quite lengthy
Considering no one saw him shot
But, as usual there was someone
Who had a story to be bought

He'd been shot from an end window
Above the Local Mercantile Store
One bullet from a rifle
And the gunman was no more

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT IN THE BACK
I WAS GUNNED DOWN BY A COWARD
I DIDN'T HEAR THE GUNSHOT CRACK

Turns out the gunman's killer
Was the one he'd come to find
The shooter was the killer's child
The only son, he'd left behind

They never met before this
He'd never ever met his Dad
But, The Gunman came to find him
And in the end, it's kind of sad

I'T WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END LIKE THIS
FACE DOWN HERE, IN THE STREET
I'M A GUNFIGHTER OF MUCH RENOWN
I'M JUST A GUN WHO CAN'T BE BEAT
I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE
LYING DEAD, SHOT BY MY SON
I WAS GUNNED DOWN WITHOUT KNOWING
I GUESS HE'S NOW THE WANTED GUN.

Women are supposed to understand.
We are supposed to agree.
Supposed to care.
Supposed to be sensitive.
Women are supposed to give you
Those warm hugs that make
the world feel alright again.
They're supposed to wait on you,
Kiss you,
Open their hearts
And legs,
And bring you joy
and present you with
Vulnerability.
Women.
We are supposed to understand,
And stay calm,
And see it from your point of view.
We are supposed to be sensitive,
But strong,
Both just enough to comfort you,
Not too much to disturb.
Women are supposed to heal you,
Even as they cut themselves removing
Sharp, spiny thorns from you.
We are supposed to let ourselves be touched,
If we love you,
When you want;
Even, when we long for a different kind of touch.
We are supposed to be open and vulnerable,
Telling you our stories
Our dreams and hopes and fears,
Ecen though you would keep us
Half-guessing your thoughts,
Perhaps until we prove ourselves.
Should women guard their secrets instead?
Women are supposed to be quiet,
Wait to be called,
Don't cry,
Don't hurt,
Don't fight.
Just understand
And listen and care.
Just give and give,
And give and give.

You were supposed to be my constant,
The one that I could always trust to be kind.
Now you are always missing in action,
And you dance off always with the same promise,
"We need to talk sometime, okay?"
Well, I'm ready when you are.

You
Were supposed to be my caretaker,
To love me always and to teach me that I
Was amazing.
Now I see you rarely, and you always see me with regret.

You
Were supposed to be my mentor, to lead me
Through the dark stages.
Instead you rummage through my haven
And leave a disgusting mess in your wake.

You
Were supposed to be my amazement,
To show me that any person can change.
Now I'm scared that you are slipping back to the person you once were.

You
Were supposed to be my sponsor,
The one who encouraged me and be proud of me.
Now I disgust you?

And you
You were supposed to be my protector,
You promised to be my protector.
You shielded me and lifted me,
You mocked me and beat me down.
You
Were supposed to be my protector,
And now you are the one I fear most.
Go **** yourself.

And I
I was supposed to be
Intelligent
Kind
Honest
Benevolent
Faithful
Individual
Account­able
Amazing
Remarkable
I was supposed to blow the world away.
I was supposed to be so much more.
I was supposed to go off in millions of sparks
I was supposed to be
Not this.