Two Cents


I’d like to give my two cents
On something that might not make sense . . .
But I’d like to do it in this poetic format, if you wouldn’t mind.
Because poetry is my refuge, and it makes sense to me, and of me—
Me and my imperfections, my cracked edges. -a disclaimer
But what a disservice it would be to all the others with cracked edges if I didn't show up.
While it brings me anxiety to flee from the comforts of my own home,
Now is the time to have hard, honest conversations.
To hold hands with one another as we cross the sidewalk.
To stand, emotions stripped bare in front of a world that lacks love for others.
And to stand in front of a mirror, to renew the lack of love for ourselves.
With that, I think I can begin.

When it comes to making friends,
I’m kind of like the wrong side of the magnet.

When it comes to puberty, and others age like fine wine
I age like rotten cheese.

When it comes to social situations,
I’m the bad dad joke.

I am the common denominator of the three.

So in this world where people are attracted to
The right side of the magnet
Fine wine
And jokes that actually produce a laugh

I’ve often felt like the odd one out.

The prime number who was never the primary one picked
The broken record who never got played
The uneven patchwork of a quilt
Trips over her own shoelaces
Kind of girl

I wondered that if I became a paper mache version
Of the paper people around me
I could erase my quirks and scribble a smile on my face. -a temporary fix

Boy I was wrong.
But we’ll get there.

I :
Tucked my own magic away, and
Pickpocketed traits from others

I was so busy looking for myself in other people
That when I was alone with my thoughts, I didn’t know who was thinking them
And that scared the living sh*t out of me.

But it taught me a few things.

I was not put on Earth to be a watered down copycat version of the artwork that is someone else. I’m here to be an original piece.
Maybe a bit abstract
Maybe a little crooked
You may even have to turn your head sideways
Or squint your eyes to understand me

But to me, that’s pretty rad because it helped me understand that:

When I pull my bandages off and find a home in my own skin, that's a step towards finding myself, and attracting others.

And that (this one was like aloe vera on a burn)
There is no formula for making or keeping friends; rather,
you make friends by making something of yourself, and
keep friends by keeping yourself accountable to who you really are

This isn’t a how-to or self-help book; however, I’d advise you to read that again.

This doesn’t mean I’m only one thing and not another.

Some days, I’m the girl filled with fireworks in her small pulsing thing.
Some days, I’m the unfiltered photo from your 6th grade promotion.

Most days, I feel far too much—but I’m learning that it is more of a blessing than a curse.
I’ve been personally equipped to hold so much emotion, to feel in such extremes; I do not have to minimize the chaos of my thoughts in order to be loved; I do not have to tone back my quirks in order to be accepted.

I am by no means perfect, I cry an unhealthy amount of tears.

But it turns out
That people like you best when you show up 100% you.
Even if that’s a work in progress.

And that the people that actually matter are the ones who stick around for the messy hair, no makeup, theres-no-way-in-hell-i-can-leave-my-house-looking-like-this kind of days.

Because the ones worth having in your life are gonna find you and then stay,
Not because of how you look or what you’re wearing—

But because of your heart.

Because of your smile.
Because of your laugh.
Because of the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about things you love.

So treat this as a little reminder to embrace the you’s you have been
And to feel inspired by the you’s you are capable of being

Because just as the sun rose for me,
It will rise for you too.

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