Self,
centered,
watching the world burn.
This calm is maintained by
expelling air in between each blink.
Glass is far in sight,
glasses cracked
and not foreseen,
because I'm not a seer.
Blanketed in ignorance,
wrapped: up tight.
Shelf this selfishness, I'm told.
So I consider this advice.
Rearranging the paperbacks.
Misplacing the first editions.
All the math in the world; variables
do not ease understanding
of long division.
So I'm left not right,
have never been alright,
and that is why being centered
is crucial for survival.
That is why becoming adaptable
isn't laughable
while watching the world burn.
It's having a cold disposition
to withstand the heat.

I was
once potent, now soft
then twisted suddenly
like a baby thrown aloft
"Pull!"
and then shot
bad habits, tendencies
thinking about money
when I haven't got a lot
I used to think I was
pretty good looking
but
my self esteem took a knock
life is about finding your rock

I am
scarred, dangerous
and outright harmless
when I'm stressed out
my love turns me to calmness
overrated like chrome
a blade lacking in sharpness
turning away from peace
and reverting to the darkness
never liked change
always afraid of taking chances
thought I needed help
but I guess that I'm past it
looking for a home because
I was told it's where the heart is

On the 7 ways to make your partner fall in love with you list one stuck out in my mind. "Stare into each other's eyes for four minutes without saying a word," it read. So here I sit, staring into the eyes of my reflection in the mirror hoping that maybe if I am able to stare long enough I will begin to love myself. I'll notice my favorite attributes and learn to love my flaws. However, within 30 seconds of locked eyes, my vision was blurred as I began to sob. Within those 30 seconds I came to the realization that I do not love myself and I'm finding it hard to believe that I ever will.

You don't have to pulse faster
Anytime someone smiles at you
And it's a real, true smile
The kind that makes eyes shine
And noses crinkle

You don't have to pour your soul
Over to everyone who gives you
A second of their attention
A conversational transgression
You let yourself go too much
With even a simple "How are you?"

You don't have to love every man
Because one didn't or couldn't, you
Your body is not a playground
Meant for everyone else's enjoyment
Their fingers pawing at your ribcage
Like monkey bar rungs, from one
To the next, to the next, to the next
And back again

Not every sweet word should send
You swooning into a careless daydream
Where you forget who's waiting for you at home.
At home,
At home, a man who would never cheat you
Out of an ounce of love even if he wanted to
Because hurting you is the last thing
On his ******* agenda
And you've had this penciled into yours since
The first time he placed his lips
Against your forehead and told you he loved you
A man, who would have given anything
Just to hear your laugh fill a room
Or see you every morning from across
The blankets and pillows
And still find you ever just as beautiful
As the first time he slept next to you.
Who brings you peppermint tea
When he knows you're stressed, and it helps
Calm the quiver in your stomach
From all the anxiety you cause for yourself

You're a mess maker, heartbreaker

One time he told you that love is a garden
That you have to choose to tend it
Or let it be overgrown with problems
And you were too stupid to understand
What it meant, until you realized you were
Planting seeds in someone else's.

Line by line, recite my pain
Neither me, you or the world to blame
Remembering how weak I was
Forgetting how strong I am
Surrender, my talent
Giving up, never my plan

I don't want to be just another man
I want to be special and unique
Different yet the same and admirable
I want success, I want to be humble
The universe doesn't care
Nothing is planned
Since fate doesn't exist

Every day is different
Every day is the same
I make no difference to this world
I'll never make a change
If I'm honest
I myself never really liked change
Hell, I never really even liked myself

A jealous individual is me
A sad one too
"Woe is me" cliché yet true
I wake up every day and cry inside
"What am I going to do?"
Every poem I wrote sounds the same
"Oh sadness, Oh love, Oh money,
Oh baby, Oh please, Oh why"

I'm suffocated by anger
Egged on by pain
An old soul with a young face
A young man with no place
Very few friends since eighteen
All I am is a sob story
An easy to get on with drama queen

You're everywhere, man.
I just can't get away.
There when I'm sleeping ,
and at the break of every day.
Hanging in my time,
matching every word I say.
You're everywhere, man.
I just can't get away.

You're everywhere, man.
please just go away.
Take your hand of my wallet!
Get You're you out of my way.
Scrounging a living from
my worth each day.
You're everywhere, man.
please just go away.

When I'm shaving you're
hand is holding the razor steady.
While watching TV you give
me a running commentary.
While Looking in the mirror,
you look on bitterly.
Is there something wrong,
am I not worthy?

You're everywhere, man.
I just can't get away.
In my clothes and shoes,
using the same brands as I use.
Sharing my breath and heart beat too,
I'll curse each day I'm with you.
But I just can't get away.
We are I, yes  that's true.
But I don't want any part of you.
You're everywhere, man.
It just won't do.
You're everywhere, man
I don't want any part of you.

“But Eve… Different isn’t always a good thing.” Said Annabeth, oblivious, in a state of self-loathing,

At first, Eve was silent, basking, shocked of how this lively girl just spoke not so lively. But then…

“Different is always a good thing. In the simplicity of society, where each and every body is demanded to be the same, where everyone aspires towards fitting in with the standards shoved into their faces, and where those who stray from this very path are labeled as outcasts, change is a good thing. In fact, change, the metamorphosis of the very nature of this world, is needed. Without it, everyone would not even know that they are following the direction in which our community persuades. In fashion, you are not. Astray from the normal, you are. But do not ever think of this as a terrible thing. You, with your skinny frame, blatant display of ribs and bones, bloodshot eyes, pale skin and the miniscule amount of hair on your head, though may not be perceived as something normal, are more than what they are- those who label you as such. Do not listen to those who tell you that you are sick and do not belong in this world anymore. You are not sick because of that, but because God willed it. In all his Glory, he willed you to be sick and come to him quicker than anyone would have thought. That, my dear, makes you special. Different, a definition of it is to not be like another person, and life, my precious Anna, would completely miserable and uninteresting, you see, if there were to be a world of sameness. A personal hell, I would call it, a wormhole of insanity. So, Annabell… Different, as you and every other person on this Earth is, is actually a phenomenal thing. A phenomenal thing indeed…”