I thought I could conform,
wanting to become part of the pack.
I dressed differently;
closed my mouth more.
I tried to be less caring yet more selfless
hoping to become more desirable.

It didn't work.

I wore black.
I abstained from interests in favor of theirs.
I slept only with candles for warmth
and bathed in ice water.
I froze.
I laughed at the idiocies protruded from their mouths,
trying to fit in, but stay me.
I was brainwashed.
I ate kosher for a year and a day.
I drank tea to bleach me inside.
I prayed to Mother Earth and Father Sky for strength as the moon waxed,
but was weakened when they turned away my heart at Witching Hour,
and thought I would die from the cold.

I did what I thought was good,
thinking blending wasn't a bad idea.
But still deep inside me is the need to know:
was adapting always like this?

Is it acting
or adapting?
smiling for the show
of customers:
bright, dapper,
cheery and proud -
pushing product
with a knowing smile,
words animated,
confident and collected.
once they leave i sit and
ponder, I see the stars
in their films and admire
from afar, lamenting that I
cannot act - but can I?

They say when life hands you lemons make lemonade
But how can I do that in the pouring rain
When I'm all out of sugar
And misplaced my pitcher and cup
It feels like there's no way to whip it up
So I'm stuck with these lemons
And nothing to do
Oh how I wish I could make a switcheroo
I'd chose something sweeter than lemons
But I can't and I won't
So I guess I'll stick with this poem that I wrote