I'm the wall in your backyard, paint falling off and all.

I am a jammed stapler.

I'm clumsy and lose balance like a seesaw. 

I am a wet phone in a bowl of rice.


My laugh is loud and obnoxious, when it isn't dubbed with music.

My vision is blurry and gauzy, when I don't wear my glasses.

My words sometimes accidently leave bruises.

My expressions sometimes lie when people pass by.

I'm not the girl apologizing for saying "God dammit!"

I'm not the girl in Valencia or Willow.

I'm not the girl with one thousand followers,

and certaintly not the one that always smiles.


I am a book with the table of contents ripped out.

I am a dysfunctional safety kit,

a wet bandaid,

a broken mirror.


This me being unfiltered,

this is me being true.

I am a glittery blister,

but I am always blue.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741