I’m paralyzed by the crippling fear
that because I am so weird,
nobody will ever like me.
I survived high-school and all it’s social cliques
by being myself and not giving a shit,
I never attended a single party,
never got stupidly drunk and vomited on my parent’s sofa.
I was stupidly good.
And so when I graduated and began the quest
of finding myself outside of those secondary walls,
I realized that I would rather pretend
than be eccentric,
I would rather be normal and loved,
than myself and lonely.
So I retired my wings and fairy dust,
locked them into a vault of hopes and dreams,
coloured my hair a regular shade
and stopped asking people if they read poetry.
I stopped writing and wanting to write
because my life had become so
But deep down inside, I’m still afraid
if my freak flag flies,
will run away.