"Solitude", an original poem by PoetryGrrrl
I am no great beauty,
nor do I desire to be.
Neither am I a socialite,
or a drama queen.
I'm not really a joiner,
I am not "that kind of girl"
I'm not the type to receive gifts
like diamonds or strings of pearls.
Nor do I particularly want these things,
or assign them any intrinsic worth,
though from time to time I find myself
wondering which came first.
Was I different before I knew I was different?
Is this a "blessing" or a "curse"?
Was I always unusual, or has all this solitude
just made it more pronounced? Made it worse?
Often, when I speak, no one even hears.
Often, I'm quiet anyways, contemplating fears.
I have grown into such a skeptic,
I can't seem to let down my guard.
But, often, months after the fact
I am vindicated in this regard.
Still, I can't help but wonder,
if it is sometimes better to be
blissful, ignorant, open to danger
rather than safe and lonely, cynically?
Me, I'm the girl off in the corner
sitting by myself, oblivious, playing pretend
but if you take the time to get to know me,
you'll find I'm a loyal and trustworthy friend.
I am opinionated and angry, yet very rarely mean,
and if you're truly perceptive, you may agree
that your life would be boring and even incomplete
without me, and all of my eccentricities.
I am the girl your mother warned you about,
I will not be talked down to or be controlled.
I have done things you've probably never dreamed
despite losing this endless race against "getting too old".
I'm also fat and godless, therefore a popular media target
for hatred and disdain, my better qualities often disregarded.
The size of my brain, in truth, larger than most,
yet not even considered by those who like to boast
that "only thin is healthy", and "godless is not OK";
both arguments devoid of basic human kindness,
championed by people who never think before they say.
Is being different from the prescribed "norm"
really such an unforgivable sin?
Or am I allowed to learn to someday be
comfortable in my own skin?
And I, for my part, while not always perfectly content
do not particularly desire to be desired, nor to be "in",
nor a beauty queen, nor a teenager with perfect skin,
nor a super model, nor anything else that I can never be;
In truth, I am quite content just to be plain old me.
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