they will constantly tell you
that you're not enough
not pretty enough
not smart enough
not interesting enough
not admirable enough.
ordinary,
useless.
and by repeating it
they'll convince you
that you'll only be happy
and good enough
when you fit in.
Then,
you're gonna try your best
to be what they expect:
P E R F E C T.
only when you realize,
perfection does not exist,
and that you're not
oblied to be anything,
then you'll be happy.

I live in a comic book covention of my own hatred
Being reflected back on to me as we rub shoulders
"Welcome, enjoy the view, the coffee is blunt and the biscuits point fingers
But hey, at least you'll always have company"

Sometimes I dress up and paint my face
So that I can at least feel pretty on the outside

And I’m still not sure how I would’ve better inveigled your affection:
If I would’ve been a little less like me
Or if I would’ve been a little more like him

And I’m certainly sure I could’ve come to a perfunctory conclusion by now if I were dealing with a dichotomy
But some things just aren’t that simple
And I guess if romance were rudimentary, I wouldn’t have spent my life whole life searching

And I sure would love to wonder why it’s inevitable that everyone who pronounces their attraction to me for my personality ends up leaving me in the dust for a cheap doppelgänger
But in order for me to wonder, I’d have to truly believe that my personality beckoned attraction..
Perhaps my insecurities have been the silent assailant of my dreams all along

I’m sure I could learn how to be strong and love myself
I’m sure that if I embraced rejection I could find someone who would give me a real chance
But I just don’t have that kind of strength in me today
And when every day is the same **** struggle, I really don’t know if I’ll ever truly have any “tomorrows”