read me

This is the first time in a couple years since a page has met my brain

Sometimes as an artist, I’d start this full-out masterpiece, just to walk away

It’s almost impossible to figure out my own equilibrium while avoiding going numb 

Cause all anyone does is judge your process and hang it on their wall when you’re done

To tell you the truth, I’ve been meaning to get away

I succumb to my breathlessness, just to realize I don’t fit in this place

Despite my reckless nature, I feel obligated to stay

I feel like a passageway that everyone passes through 

They stutter, make excuses, moving around me with loose ends

I’m the embodiment of Central Station, stationed between all my friends

In and out of their sadness, the normalcy of madness

All of these people rushing in a whirlwind 

Laying on my mom’s lap at 16, she’d say that my backbone needed straightening

I admit sheepishly it cracks and bends, lending out offerings to every weakling

But that’s my fault, there’s no spending limit on the fortune of my heart 

Taking out credit cards on my confidence and they reserve no guilt spending it

Sometimes, I want to drip away into my paint swirls of lavender and chartreuse

Tell me, what about me do you admire if I strip away my use to you

If I put them on the spot, tell me what you have to lose

Would I still be your best friend, or would I then be the friend you never mention?

I’ve thought all these thoughts before, and they never change cause you never do 

I’m the local library, everyone takes and lends out all my knowledge 

Solemnly noticed but always needed for the growth of the collective

While I’m stumbling my way through life, everyone else believes I’m flying 

I guess flying doesn’t look like dying until they hear my bones crush from underneath

Under a cliff, under a tree, clinging on to my grip but my fingers are weak 

And at this time in my life, there’s a distinct difference between the people in it

Half believe I’m helpless and desperate, others say I glow when I’m glistening

I don’t know who to trust, both stories stray too far away from the real story  

I’m magically and miserably balancing both of my dichotomous bodies 

I wish I could say exactly what I want to say when I mean to say it 

By the same time, weeks later, when I’ve finally found the rhythm of it

When I’ve got the confidence, the timing right, all my words aligned 

You shrug off my performance as if I didn’t waste a million nights imagining it