I circle the store at least three times, every time I go.
I can never make up my mind.
Usually Trader Joe will ask me if I'm OK,
Or if he can help me find anything.
Usually I'll lie and say I'm fine,
Squinting intently at the array of fresh greens
But today I asked him..

How can I decide which fruit is the sweetest?
Does it matter where it came from?

Does it matter if an onion is red, or yellow, or "sweet"
If they all will make me cry?

What's the difference between a fig and a date?
How come I can never find either of them?

If swiss chard is so good for you,
Why does it taste so bad going down?

Why do beans make you farty?
How is that a "magic fruit?"

Why is everyone blind to the lie
That carrots make your eyesight better?

Is it toe-may-toe or toe-mat-toe?
Poe-tay-toe or poe-tat-toe?
Does it matter?
Does any of this matter?

He replied, "Ma'am, my name isn't Joe. I don't know. I just work here.. and they definitely don't pay me enough for this."

So I left with an empty bag, and a heavy mind.

The art of procrastination, is to not care at all.
What a fool I am?
To assume I could do nothing at all,

other than worry.

I thought I caught a glance from them.
A smirk, a deriding look.
I freeze.
Is there something in my teeth? A hair or thread that is out of place?
My god, what have I done.
I must look like a fool.
How do I even deserve to sit here, in public.
Everything I've done or said before, they must think it has been a lie.
Indeed, it was a lie.
I've been pretending to be someone I am not. And I am nothing.  
What should I do, now that the truth is out?
They'll turn me out. Then what would I do?
What the heck. I'll confront them. All is lost and I have nothing more to lose.
I walked hastily over.
"Hi guys..." I started meekly, "how's it going"?

"Oh hey Liz! Didn't see you. Wanna join us?"

She was wide awake in the dead of night
With her thoughts in a violent disarray.
Some are kind and some are sweet,
While some are hard to keep at bay.

Sorrow accompanied confusion,
and confusion accompanied grief.
And as she cradled the pain she felt,
She found herself in utter disbelief.

And as the room drowned in silence,
She was convinced of her version of truth.
That she was just too unloveable,
A mistake in the face of youth.

She couldn't see beyond the wall
But she could feel her heart break.
So she finally let her tears fall
Until she was no longer awake.

I'm jealous of those people
Who end their days so well
They don't have to think twice
If they are living in hell

I live constantly in pain
always feeling agony
I don't feel sorry for myself
I made myself this tragedy

Every night before I sleep
I have a habit of overthinking
"I shouldn't have said that"
"Was I too much?"
"Am I really not enough?"
These thoughts linger my mind
As I feel forgotten and left behind
but I have no right to complain
I made my life this way