This is a poem I wrote a few days ago, basically explaining how I've felt lately. Cliche, but it has meaning.
Hi, I'm my own conscience.
I'm here to tell myself that everything is going to be alright.
But, I'm lying to myself.
Which is hard, because I am myself.
It's not comparable to anything...Lying to yourself
Some people tell themselves they're pretty or that they'll get a promotion or that listening to Boy George in a candlelit bathtub is NOT gay.
So why am I wrong to tell myself that I will find love and that I will be happy and that after puberty my face will get better?
Tell myself that girls are just too immature to handle me and that colleges just aren't capable of keeping up with my ability.
You can't tell yourself that you're wrong, so I guess I'll never know.
But one thing is for sure:
Never once have I looked in the mirror and agreed with who I am.
And who I am has never agreed with me.
My own conscience.