eclectic that's how I'd describe myself
different from the rest
not in a pick me way
just in a way that I don't even try
and I'm different
I don't do it to impress someone
I like poetry and writing
I like wearing bold and eccentric makeup
I like wearing heaps of homemade jewelry
I like being me
I like laughing loud and hard
until I can't breathe
I like acting weird
and driving my parents crazy
from my quirky acts of love
I like being myself so hard
that only the real ones stay

A prion.
A parasite.
A writhing mass.

It is woven into one,
not by needle,
nor machine,
but by absence.

It is kind.
It destroys the mind.
It seeks a way.
Yet hated it remains.

Silently within,
pulsating with darkness,
twisting with curiosity,
it craves mercy.

A decay and a rot,
one not of flesh and bone.
This is one of isolation,
this is being alone.

[  ] i am Diane Nguyen
[  ] when the lights are off and the room's too quiet.
[  ] when i start spiraling over nothing,
[  ] but pretend i’m just tired.
[  ] when i swallow the urge to say, “i’m not okay,”
[  ] because i don’t want to ruin the vibe.
[  ] i get her.
[  ] she writes things she’ll never publish
[  ] and calls it healing.
[  ] me too.

[  ] i am Flame Princess.
[  ] masking my heat with forced politeness,
[  ] but the fire kicks at the cracks in my voice.
[  ] i was taught too young that my feelings were too much
[  ] so i bottled them.
[  ] and when the bottle breaks,
[  ] i’m the villain.
[  ] one day you’ll get it
[  ] that’s never who i was.
[  ] i’m just a girl who’s overstimulated,
[  ] trying not to combust.
[  ] trying to regulate in an unadjusted world.


[  ] i am Kirk Gleason,
[  ] Full of chaotic side character energy.
[  ] i tell stories with weirdly specific details
[  ] so no one notices i’m actually unraveling.
[  ] being silly is easier than being seen.
[  ] i make people laugh so noone ever stops to ask
[  ] The dreaded "are you okay"
[  ] I make people laugh because if they’re laughing,
[  ] they’ll stay.

[  ] I am Jake the Dog,
[  ] soft and simple.
[  ] i love hard and think deep.
[  ] i hold onto weird metaphors
[  ] about cups and pillow forts
[  ] I tell myself not to get hung up on imaginary things
[  ] because that’s how i understand the world.
[  ] i just wanna chill,
[  ] but my brain won’t always let me.
[  ] yet still I try, cause to love life you need problems
[  ] And i am determined to live to my to its fullest

[  ] i am Ted Mosby,
[  ] annoyingly romantic.
[  ] the kind who falls in love in soft, slow ways
[ ] not with only with grand gestures, but with quiet familiarity.
[  ] The type to romanticise shared eyecontact and exchanged looks
[  ] i write poems about people
[  ] who don’t know they broke my heart.
[  ] Though i still think love is worth the mess
[  ] Even when i doubt myself i always know
[  ] Loving someone is never a waste

[  ] and i’m Periwinkle.
[  ] the soft, sparkly part of me i locked in a box
[  ] when life got loud.
[  ] When life didn't understand I was only a child
[  ] i still believe in her.
[  ] i still believes she's there.
[  ] The little kid, with not so little dreams
[  ] she danced in the frost and thought the world was kind.
[  ] she’s quiet now,
[  ] Her sparkle not so bright
[  ] but she’s not gone, just dimmed
[  ] she still hides in old drawings and weird dreams like buried sea glass on a beach

[  ] i’m not all these people all the time.
[  ] but they live in me
[  ] in the sighs i swallow,
[  ] in the jokes i tell too loud,
[  ] in the poems no one reads.

[  ] i wear them like second hand hoodies,
[  ] hoping one won’t smell too much like someone else.
[  ] some days i throw them all on at once,
[  ] just to feel something that fits.
[  ] some days i stare at the pile
[  ] and don’t even bother.

[  ] i just want someone to notice
[  ] without me having to ask.
[  ] someone to say,
[  ] “i see you , even the parts you hide.”

[  ] until then,
[  ] Ill keep hiding my true self,
[  ] Untill I'm truly seen
[  ] Piecing myself together with glitter glue and stubborn hope,
[  ] soft rage and borrowed words.

[  ] and maybe i’m still becoming.
[  ] and maybe that’s okay.

I've been running around trying to change                                                      
    ­                                                                 ­                                              
   but found one mold doesn't always fit                                                              ­            
                                                                ­                                                
There's not a lot I can do about being strange                                                          ­              
                                                  ­                                                                 ­       
it is what it is & that is this,                                                            ­                        
                                        ­                                                                 ­               
I may not have the typical family,                                                          ­      
                                                                ­                                                      
I'm not ashamed of being me,                                                              ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­     
there's no reason for trying to be,                                                              ­              
                                                  ­                                                          
someone else other than me                                                               ­               
                                                                ­                                                      
I might not share your point of view,                                                  
         ­                                                                 ­                                    
that's because I'm me, not you                                                              ­            
                                                    ­                                                                 ­  
If we were to act exactly the same,                                                      
     ­                                                                 ­                                              
we may as well all have the same name                                                             ­           
                                                     ­                                                             
You­ might not like how I carry myself                                                  
        ­                                                                 ­                                               
but I don't want to be like everyone
else                                                          
                                                                ­                                                      
I like the differences I see in me,                                                              ­        
                                                                ­                                                      
I am not a clone or a wanna
be                                                               ­       
                                                         ­                                                         
You can point at me in judgement,                                                       ­                                   
                             ­                                                                 ­            
pretend you are heaven sent                                                             ­   
                                                             ­                                                     
But I know I have common sense,                                                           ­       
                                                         ­                                                             
I don't want to live a life as someone I resent

What are you so afraid of?                                                              ­              
                                                  ­                                                                
­Being gay isn't contagious                                                       ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­        
Why can't you be true to you?                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                
                ­                                                                 ­                                   
Love anyone that you want to.                                                              ­          
                                                      ­                                                                 ­ 
Is it wrong to be different?                                                       ­             
                                                                ­                                                    
Who are we to consequence?                                                     ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­              
We're all unique in our own way                                                              ­    
                                                                ­                                                  
What is wrong & who's to say?                                                             ­     
                                                           ­                                         
Judgement is passed so easily                                                           ­           
                                                     ­                                                           
Like a cycle of stupidity,                                                       ­                                                              
Do you believe you can choose                                                           ­             
                                                   ­                                                                 ­
Be careful of who you lose                                                             ­                 
                                                                ­                                          
Friends come is all colors & size                                                          
  ­                                                                 ­                                               
Do you have so many by your side?                                                            ­
                                                                ­                                                
That you can choose to discard                                                          ­                
                                                ­                                                        
everyone who's not your star?                                                            ­            
                                                    ­                                                        
  Words can hurt so **** much                                                             ­                                                                 ­    
                                                                ­                                                
  Stop the hatred, enough is enough!                                                          ­                                                      
          ­                                                                 ­                                     
  This hate could only make sense                                                            ­             
                                                                ­                                                      
If we embraced intolerance

They say home is where the heart is.  
How poetic. How sweet.  
How utterly useless when you wake up in a bed that smells like someone else’s city,  
when the walls don’t know your voice,  
when the streets spit out syllables that trip your tongue.  

Tell me—does this look like home to you?  
A place where I walk like a stranger in my own shoes,  
where my laughter is softer, measured,  
where even my silence doesn’t sound quite right?  
I sit in a room filled with my own things,  
but they feel stolen, out of place,  
as if I’ve broken into a life that wasn’t meant for me.  

They smile at me, they nod, they talk.  
So kind. So welcoming.  
So oblivious to the weight I carry  
when I pretend that their way of life is now mine.  
Like it’s just that easy.  
Like you can simply unzip yourself from the past  
and slide into a new skin without bleeding.  

Back home—  
(ha, “home,” like it’s still mine to claim)  
the air was warmer,  
the sky softer,  
the ground held me like I belonged.  
Here, I am tolerated.  
Accepted, even.  
But belonging?  
That’s a different kind of luxury.  

So I go through the motions.  
I drink their coffee. I learn their roads.  
I adjust my mouth to their words,  
wear them like second-hand clothes,  
a little tight, a little loose, never quite fitting.  
And I tell myself, maybe one day,  
this place will stop feeling borrowed.  

Maybe one day, I’ll wake up  
and the walls will know my name.  

But not today.  
Not yet.  
Maybe never.