She

Soft. Quiet. Kind. Loving. She was a little girl. A shy soft spoken child, Scared to speak out. Scared to tell her thoughts. Scared to be herself. She sat alone at lunch. She sat alone in class. She poured her soul into Knowing, Learning, Becoming. Knowledge was her escape. She had one real friend. At least she thought she was real. That friend had more friends. Better friends. Better than her. She became imaginary. She walked along the playground border Alone. Balancing her feet One in front of the other. Counting how many steps She took. How many feet She walked. Counting how many people Walked by Without seeing her. She was like a shadow. Invisible in broad daylight. Behind everyone else. Reaching to be apart of Something Besides her own counting games. She was blooming. Growing up. Becoming. She did not feel that. No satisfaction of achievement. She felt weaker than before. Her friends were no longer imaginary. Her lunch was not spent alone. Her recess was not spent counting. She could laugh. She could joke. She could talk. But not too much laughing, Or they'd look at her weird. Not too much joking, Or they'd stare with confusion. Not too much talking, Or the feelings would come out The buried emotion would rise up Who she is as a person would be visible And they would all leave. She was insecure. She looked at herself every day. Her body was too big. Her hair was too curly. Her face was too unique. She changed herself everyday. Clothes covered her curves. A flat iron tamed the coils. Makeup smudged her beauty. She was accepted into the group. She was in charge of the group. They all hung out with her. They all liked her. They handed her cigarettes. She refused. They handed her alcohol. She refused. They handed her a joint. She refused. She fell in love. He loved her back. She wanted to hold on To everything She worked so hard to get. She could not hold on To it all. She finally took the cigarette, Held it to her lips And inhaled. She took the bottle, Pushed it to her lips And swallowed. She took the joint, Sucked in with her lips, And flew. She still loved him. He could not love her, Anymore. Her everything became nothing. She was still alone. She needed to change. She wanted to be better. She lifted herself up, Away from distraction, Away from the crowd, Away. She focused on learning, On knowing, On succeeding, On becoming Her own person. She talked, She laughed, She joked. She learned, She accepted, She grew, She helped. She cared, She loved. She thought, Home was a safe haven. Home became Hell. She was too good. She was too successful. She knew too much. She cared too much. She was too damn "perfect". They stopped liking her. They dissed her. They ignored her. They disowned her. They hated her for being herself. The shell she broke so long ago, Became whole again. She wanted to crawl deep inside. Become invisible and numb. Hide from the shame of being Too perfect. She dreams of going back. The pain did not sting so much. The rejection did not register. She was ignorant of the cruelty. She wants to go back, Back to the little girl. Shy. Sweet. Unharmed. Innocent. As a child her mind could run to Forever Counting footsteps Balancing on toes Watching the world around her. She became a part of something More than her counting games. Her counting games Were better. Her own small world Was simpler. She wants to return, She wants to forget, She wants to count Her footsteps As she walks Along the edge Of reality. Watching the world go by Without her.