i am not a pretty girl
i am not a perfect girl
i don’t have a loving doting family
or pride in everything i do
i don’t have perfect health
or perfect teeth
or the perfect group of friends
i don’t have a terrible home life either
nobody in my family assaults me
they don’t go out of their way to annoy me
they don’t hate me
i’m not imperfect in some cute way
i’m just a girl
a girl who can’t relax
even though i know no one is there
a girl who can’t sleep with the lights out
a girl who has hands that aren’t steady
hands that curl in automatically
ready for a fight that will never come
a girl who has my head in a book
and my nose in the clouds
or is it the other way around?
a girl who focuses on the tiniest insignificant things
because i think they might be important
a girl who thinks i might be sociopathic
but prays that i’m autistic
because i don’t like not having empathy
or no understanding of the way people feel
i’m a girl with friends who aren’t there
in every meaning of the phrase
a girl who’s thumbs hurt from incessant texting
and not to people who i’ve ever met
i’m a girl who doesn’t trust authority
but i follow it anyway
with no justification than cowardice
i’m a girl who can’t learn another language
but will watch movies in that language anyway
because i like to pretend
that my mind isn’t slow
and i’m smarter than they think
i’m a girl who survives solely out of spite
because nothing else peaks my interest enough
i’m a girl who will write anything and everything
because i rarely feel the emotions myself
so i give them to someone else
i’m a girl who loves the fictional world
for fantastical reasons
and daydream about the day i’ll get sucked into some death world
i’m just a girl
who lives in the middle
with my own problems
and my own worries
and my brand new tears
without a door to close on them
just a curtain to hide behind
like a child who pretends
or maybe just hopes
that nobody can see them
- me










