I didn't ask questions. I didn't have the right words, or the exact thought I needed. I said, "Teach me something that I don't know!" I was excited to know everything and in response I was asked, "What do you want to know?" But...I didn't know. That's why I wanted to...so as I grew I was shunned for the constant hand raising and observatory gazing. I wanted to know, but knowing was wrong. If I wanted to know, I had to understand. That's what I was trying to do, but the other kids said to know something was bad. I didn't want to be bad. So I didn't know and that's why I didn't ask.  So how could I ever have known not to listen to people like them?
   As I grew I was shunned for not knowing. I didn't know the simple things, but I looked so smart and shy. They caved in over asking for answers, while my mind was up in the sky. My friends were too busy with AP and Honors to the point they could barely stop to say hi. I asked for help and I got some, but I got shocked eyes, and confused teachers wondering why.
  "Yeah" I thought "their right" it's simple stuff, If they could then I could with will on my side, but I was younger, and I didn't know. I floated away and came back by the end, with one year to spare, I can't revive myself again. I have a 2.2 on 4.0 scale, and I wanted to go a good university. If only I knew, then I'd be going to places like Yale.

She said I'm like
            a letter in a bottle,
I float around my far off world, keeping my distance;
Wishing someone would help me open up,
Someone would read into my words,
Someone would find my answers, and lead me home.
But no one waits alone for years
with such excited hope
that they one day come across
                a letter in a bottle.
They need something that's useful.
But I looked to her in such disgrace.
She was once that person,
But the magic was gone,
and so was my bottle,
and so was my letter.

She never let the sun go down
Her eyes were almonds in the spring.
Her arms were always by her side,
And when we sang her arms would swing.
But by night her lips were flamming,
A fire burnt so cold,
Her dreams were utmost frightening,
And her stories,
Not mine to be told.
She paced through life like a diamond,
Roughed out to the perfect cut.
She didn't look down,
For she felt that the ground,
would soil her back to a mut.
I held her hand for a moment,
And she smiled,
So I released.
She didn't want my help,
Just knowing I was there was all she'd need,
But then she soon fell low,
Down through the ice, water; snow.
She fell beyond my grasp,
Her smile forever last.
She walked a path on her own,
I learned I must let go.
Its every nightmare I know,
When you bargain "no",
But there they go.
Off on the path that alone she paved
..and alone she swore she'd trough.

Actually,
I'm not too bad.
Actually,
I'm pretty great.
Actually,
I'd hate myself.
Actually,
What could you really hate?
Actually,
I wouldn't be anything if I were missing anything.
Actually,
I wouldn't be anyone if I were missing anyone.
Actually,
I'm good.
Actually,
I'm great.
Actually,
I'm not that bad,
Actually,
I'm no saint.
Actually,
I can be me.
Actually,
I can and am
Actually,
I'd never want to be the same.
Because...
Being a robot would be such a shame.

I'm not sure I was meant for this.
I'm sure I existed far too late.
It seems I came to be in the wrong time era,
and I assure you the wrongest wrong place.
I can hold my head high wherever,
but records and dusty movies are my friends,
they make me feel like I'm home at last;
make me wish the time never ends,
but it did and so forth,
I was not meant for here.
The people, too boastful,
with so much less to fear.
The relationships are wasteful,
and different by the day.
The love and optimism is fading out to grey.
I almost pity the people,
and I find their time more tragic,
while the era I love was suppressed by casual bombs,
the era I'm in has lost all their magic...

There's a thought that crosses through and by,
to evaporate up to the sky,
fetal posistion and eyelids kissed,
wisped away softly with the mist.

You keep looking for yourself,
because you want so badly to see the 'real' you
so you look at quotes,
you experiment with lifestyles,
you question what you could be,
you look in a mirror but feel lied to,
then you hit a certain age and feel struck,
it's all between laughable and sad,
you notice the person behind every line of lipstain,
every cloak of cashmere,
and every bud on a cig,
you had this little speck of originality that no one understands.
Through all the time you spent trying to find yourself,
you were you,
it was just so hard to comprehend.