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Victoria Truax Jun 2013
I've changed.
I've changed for the better.
And I like it.

I wear what I want to,
Do my hair the way I think it looks nicest,
I do my make up some days,
Don't do it others,

I am no longer trying to impress anyone
But myself.

I don't need a single soul to like me
Or love me

I've been holding myself a little taller,
Singing a little louder,
Laughing a little harder,
Telling people what I think, and
Being a little more of me.

And the world knows me a lot better
Than the old me
Would like.

But the new me
Loves it,
And the reasons that the old me
Hates it,
Is the exact reason I'm doing it.

Because I'm tired of doing things because
I think it will make me cooler
Or funnier
Or prettier
Or nicer
Or more talented
Or better liked
Or whatever else.

And I thought that
If I did what was
Or funny
Or pretty
Or nice
I would be confident.
I would finally be totally confident in myself.


Only when I decided that I am
Plenty cool
And plenty funny
And plenty pretty
Am I finally confident.

And the only person I needed to tell me that
I am good enough

Victoria Truax Jun 2013
I went on a walk today.
A long walk.
I was feeling weird, and I like walking.

But when I don't have anything to distract me from my thoughts
My mind wanders to you.

Then before I know it
I'm turning my head each time a car passes
That looks remotely like yours,
Just wondering if it was you.

I don't think it was.

But I couldn't tell that last time.

I really don't know why you consume my thoughts.
You're attractive,
And kind,
And passionate,
And mature,
And pretty much all of the things that I like in a man,

I mean,
There's no way I have a chance.
I don't have a chance.
I don't think I have a chance.
I guess I could have a chance.
What if I have a chance?
I totally have a chance.

Whatever, because
I'm totally over you,
So it doesn't even matter.

But I really couldn't tell that last time if
It was you driving the car.
Victoria Truax Jun 2013
I've written four poems today.
I've posted none of them.

That's because they're all about love.

And I can't handle too many love poems.

Two of the four were oddly specific,
Three were much too mushy,
And the fourth was incredibly bitter.

I'll post this one.
This is not a love poem.
Victoria Truax Jun 2013
I've written four poems today.
I've posted none of them.

That's because they're all about love.

And I can't handle too many love poems.

Two of the four were oddly specific,
Three were much too mushy,
And the fourth was incredibly bitter.

I'll post this one.
This is not a love poem.
Victoria Truax Jun 2013
I think I would like to have Shakespeare recited to me.
While I'm on a balcony,
Or leaning out an open window.

I deeply love Shakespeare.
And there's not much in the world
That can make me fall in love more quickly
Than well-performed Shakespeare.

That doesn't mean that I would fall in love instantly
With just anyone that
Performs Shakespeare for me.

Oh, no.

It simply means that
You instantly have a foot in the door.

Or if you already have a foot in the door,
Well, then,
I've probably fallen in love with you
By the third iamb.

I would like it
If a man were to stand below my window,
And after tossing a a few pebbles at the glass,
Smiled up at me and
Recited some well-rehearsed


I think that would be nice.
Victoria Truax Jun 2013
Do you believe in fate?
Sometimes I believe in fate more than I believe in anything.
And then sometimes
I feel so lost that
There is no way fate exists.

I'm a believer.
In my mind
I've separated people in two different groups.

The Dreamers
The Practical.

That's not to say that one can't fit into both of these categories in different areas.
I think that it's more of a Venn diagram
Rather than a clear line down the middle.

I am a Dreamer.
Through and through.

It's hard for me to be practical sometimes
Because I believe in my dreams so much
I think I can go one hundred thousand dollars into debt
So that I can go to my dream University in England,
And it will all work out for me.
Because I believe.

I didn't go.

Because my father is a Practical and my mother is somewhere in the middle of the diagram.
And I was only 18.
And occasionally I see the Practical side of things.

But I think I'll always be a Dreamer.

And I like that about myself.
A lot.

I like that I have little concept of Practicality.
I live for the dream of my life.

Because if I face "Practicality"
Then Who Am I?

I would not be writing this poem right now,
I would be sleeping.

I would not be going to school to become an Actor,
I would be in Business or Marketing or Pre-Law.

I would not be doing what I love,
I would be doing something that's sensible or rational or Practical.

I know that would not be happy,
I would be confused and lonely and lost.

I believe in fate.
And I believe in dreams.
Victoria Truax Jun 2013
My best friend and I are the ultimate example of opposites attract.

I am five foot, ten inches,
Fair skinned,
Blue eyed,
And light haired.

She is five foot, one inch,
More tan in the winter than I have ever been in the summer,
Dark eyes,
Dark hair.

And that is only in our physical appearance.

I am an emotional waterfall.
I cry often and with ease.

She can turn it off like that.
It's incredible how many tears of mine she had seen before I saw the first of hers.

I give in at the drop of a hat.
To the point it is not a good thing.
I am the first to say sorry, the last to speak up and
I rarely consider my opinions equal to the opinions of others.

She is a spitfire.
She knows what she wants and she will get it.
The first to speak her mind, stubborn as hell,
And Joan of Arc herself would be proud of how she stands up for herself, and her friends.

She brings out the things in me I didn't know existed.
I can be angry, opinionated and selfish around her.

Which is a really good thing.

I'd like to say I help bring out something good in her,
But honestly,
I can't believe that I help her nearly as much as she helps me.

I'm sure she'll make some comment to me on that last paragraph like,
"You know that's BS. You help me just as much as I help you."

And I guess I help her, because she's my best friend, and I'm her best friend.
But, well.
I rarely consider myself equal to others.

I think you know your best friend is your best friend
When a sufficient number of these things happen.

1. When someone tells you not to tell anybody something,
that "anybody" does not include your "best friend."

2. You Skype or call them to do nothing.
Just so they're there to stalk Facebook with you.
Or listen to you clean your room.

3. You talk about all the details of everything.
Even if they are so silly and miniscule
No one else in the world would care about them.

4. When you can rant about the same thing over and over,
And they will treat it like it's as big of a deal as the first time you ranted about it.

5. They call all your friends by name,
Even if they have never met them.

6. Sometimes you wonder if they know more about you
Than you know about yourself.

7. They can tell when there is something wrong
Based off of a single exhale.

8. They refuse to hang up the phone at ridiculous hours of the night
Because you are too sad to be left alone.

9. They sing you to sleep.

I think that good friendship, best friendship is a bit underrated nowadays.
I also think it's misunderstood.
I would be dead
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