Two months --
And a maybe
68 days --
And a .1% chance
Eight more days
To take upwards of three
tests to see
If my life --
Our life --
Is changing
Or maybe I was right the first time, Just mine
Because when I told you about worry
You told me about clinics
When I talked about
Talking to parents
You told me you didn't even want your mom to know
Seventeen and Sixteen
You tell me you don't want to be a statistic
Another cliche
But I don't want to be a graveyard
I don't want to grow flowers either
You asked me why I'm worried now
And I have no words to describe the feeling in my gut
The odd sense of paranoia
With no evidence for my worry
A little over 9 weeks
And a trembling thought
2632 hours
And anxious feelings
-P.S. I'm keeping it-

I was never on the honor roll
I never got a 4.0
I wasn't in the top 100 of my class
I didn't get a scholarship
I didn't play any sports
I gave up on all my musical instruments
I can't draw

I brought all this up to my best friend
In tears
Because my life was nothing special
I have quite literally accomplished nothing
Nothing to be proud of
Nothing to show

"Shut up," she said.
"You're an amazing friend.
You listen and you help, with no judgment.
You're a hard worker.
People count on you."

A few years later and I'm a college drop out
Who works two jobs
With parents that sing praise to anyone who listens
About my little brother

But I'm proud of myself
Because I am one of the best employees
Because I'm a good daughter and a kind sister
Because I'm there for the friends that never hesitate to walk away from me
Because I have aspirations

There is so much hurt in this world
I have felt some of it
And so have you

The greatest thing I will ever accomplish
Is sharing
In other people's pain
And I don't need a college degree
To do that

There are things I'll never have.
No patience for rude people
No thigh gap
No one to pay for my college education
       Except me
No back dimples
No good high school experience
No growing above 5 foot 2
These are things I didn't pick.
Things I really can't change.
But it sounds too cliché
To ask for acceptance

It's been five years
And we stayed friends
But it was hard
Because I never stopped loving you.
You stopped telling me what was going on
And then something changed.
You started talking to me again.
I mean like really talking.
But then....
You texted me while you were totally drunk
And you said a lot of things
Mostly how you'd never stopped loving me.
But then....
You wouldn't admit it when you were sober and got mad when I used the phrase
"Under the influence"
But that's what you were because
Apparently
Your filter won't let you love me
You need something that uninhibits your brain,
Something that temporarily alters your brain chemistry,
To love me.
And then you got mad when I said
"That's not okay"
Here's to another five years

I'm a nice person.
Until I have to deal with other people.
And then I have a hard time not screaming.
Because what the **** makes you better than me?

When did society start saying that people don't have to be kind to other people?
What the **** happened to the golden rule?
It's tarnished and dusty,
Thrown in the mud.
And I'm so ******* mad.

Because I want to love people.
I want to be nice.
I want to go out of my way to help someone.
But, people, you are **** near impossible to love
Because your always looking down on me, and it's not just cause I'm short.
Always looking down on your fellow humans.

Why?
Because they don't have a nice car or house?
Because I shop at Target and you shop at Nordstrom?
Because you're the customer and by wearing a hat and apron and name tag, I've labeled myself as a doormat?
Because I'm a woman?
WHY? WHAT GIVES YOU THAT RIGHT?

I just want to understand.
I am a very ******* nice person.
And I hate that I let you change me.
So.... What the **** makes you better than me?

I keep finding
All these peices of you
Wrapped up in me.
And they surprise me
Everytime I see one.
Everyone asks
"Are you okay?"
But do I even have a choice.
Are you noticing peices of me
Stowed away in the strangest places?
Like your sunglasses that were accidentally
Tucked under the passenger side seat?
It's different and strangely new
To be without you.