Perfection

I say I will not let this world change me,
yet it does anyway.

I claim that I will not water myself down,
yet I am buying new clothes.

I tell people to be themselves,
yet I am too much.

How can I be so hypocritical?
When did I become the worst person on earth?
Someone so horrible that they have to change
everything about themself.

I praise larger bodies,
wondering how they manage to be so comfortable.
I stare at the ground in the bathroom,
not daring to risk a glance at myself.

I see what others think are flaws in themselves,
and only see the beauty of uniqueness.
I reprimand myself in the car
for getting excited and talking too much.


I need myself to be perfect
Everyone else is perfect already,
but I am dirty.
I am broken.

Maybe if I can fix
everything that makes me wrong
then maybe
maybe

maybe I won't be alone.