Poetry of a trying girl.

Labeled

Being the funny one was okay. It was a compliment!! I never once minded people thinking I was a joy to talk to, I didn't mind making people smile because of something dumb.

Being the smart one was okay. It made me feel good actually! Getting the highest grades in my class, winning a math award and getting compliments for some English essay. Being the smart one was a title I took to my stride.

Being the leader was okay. I was someone my friends looked up to, and that others look up to! I was known for being the one everyone knew and that felt so good, and I bathed in it.

Being the good worker, the too cocky, never shuts up, well styled, always happy, the best friend, the optimist, the musician, the poet. I was okay with all of these labels. Every single one of them.
Then one day, I got a label I didn't like; the least favourite. The least favourite kid out of two, the least favourited friend, the least favourited student, the one no one wanted to be. I got labels like the ugly friend. The friend who will never be pretty when standing next to anyone, the friend who'll never have a lover, the one that no one wants.
I gained labels like the weird one, the friend zoned, the angry one, the sad one, the single one.

So I put on the labels I liked the most, I wore nice outfit, I played music and sang, tried to always smile. I couldn't block out the other labels, not when stuffed down my lungs making no room for oxygen, making me throw up from who looked at me in the mirror. I couldn't hide from everyone's eyes, but they still called me the confident one which was okay.

I couldn't hide from them calling me ugly, and slowly I agreed. I hated who stared at me, but it was okay, I lived with my labels and I learned what limits my lovely labels left me.

I'll always make people laugh, but I'll never make them fall in love.