Some things aren't fixable
Some things just never change

Ever since the 8th grade I've had this heavy backpack
This burden-
That no matter how much you tell me who I really am
According to you
I will always lose it
Because my own mind will push it away
I try to hold onto the life lines
I try to cling to the ropes, but
Sitting in the darkness of my room at night
Alone, trying to sleep pries the line from my hands
And self-loathing and poor self-esteem pulls me down again
I am still falling, not far enough to hit the net
But how much farther can I get?

I've noticed
No matter where I am or who I'm with
I make problems
I am a problem
I walk with ink up to my elbows
Reaching out to people, but pushing them away
So I don't get blue and black on their pretty white shirts

With every person I befriend, I change my sails
To match the flow of their winds so I can carry conversation with them
Some people call it charisma
But I just see it as fear of judgement
I don't need another voice telling me that I'm different
Weak
Not good enough
Invaluable
Untalented
Pathetic
Disgusting
Wrong
Incapable of having opinions
I am not wrong to be me
But I am nothing worth loving
You tell me I am amazing
You tell me I'm worth it
Now I'm not saying you're a liar
I just find it hard to believe you

Don't tell me I'm doing this for attention
I do not want attention, I want to blend
I want to be alone
Having self-hatred is nothing to flaunt
And is anything but a "cute quirk"
It's not even a curse
It's a cancer
It is a part of me
It lives in me wanting nothing but to live
It's just something undesirable

And now I'm back to being seven
You run fine-toothed plastic combs through my messy brown-and-blonde hair
And I squeal when you catch a tangle because it hurts
But all you want is for me to feel pretty when you braid my favorite ribbons in
I run outside in my Velcro-fastened light-up shoes to jump on the trampoline
And when I finally get the courage to jump even higher
I hurt myself
And I get too scared to try again

I wanted to be a ballerina, cheerleader, pianist, pink-skirt-wearing girl
Because "that's what a girl is"
Everything I do is based on what others do
In elementary school, I saw that my friend was good at drawing
So I wanted to be good at drawing, too
I saw the 6th graders in cheer with their uniforms and ponytails
So I wanted to do that, too
I wanted to be good at something on my own

I got good at changing
People say that people don't change
But become what they were from the start
But I've edited myself too many times
So I've lost where my start was
No map, no compass
Just the annoying GPS that you spent way too much money on
"Turn left. Turn right. Recalculating.
Make a U-turn. Recalculating."
And I hate myself even more for buying it

But it's a sin to kill a mockingbird
All I do is put on a new face for people to enjoy
"Oh, you like these bands? .....Me too."
So I go home and convince myself of these new things
So I can be the person that you talk about them to
I'm selfish
I don't want to lose another friend because
I push you

Expertly calibrated and practiced actions
Years of perfected movements and words made exact
So that you would leave me
So I don't feel like a bad friend
So I don't have to say the cliche
"It's not you, it's me."
It's me that messes everything up
Me that drops everything I've learned to like before
So I could learn more to be your friend
But I'm not good enough to be that
Hell, I don't even remember who I'm talking to
There are too many faces that reflect off of broken mirrors
So I don't know which one to copy