By Bren Spahn

Such intricacy in two little letters.
So many thoughts of harshness and bad memories.
I am the girl who talks herself down.
I am the girl who will text you at 3 A.M. wondering what the point of living is anymore.
Am I a lesbian? Am I bisexual?
I don't even know the basic facts about myself.
I'm sorry I dumped you two weeks after dating you.
I don't even love myself, how can I love someone else?
My room is the only place I feel like I can truly show myself.
If only you didn't leave, maybe you could see me too.
How does the sun rise? The sun set?
I want to stay awake for hours, staring at the chemicals in the sky.
I know everything I do to be sub-par, 
and every word I speak someone else's.
How do I figure myself out?
Well, maybe I need to...
I don't know.
I don't know how to figure myself out
How am I supposed to do this when I don't even know who I am?
My parents always told me to be myself when I meet new people, because then everyone will love me,
But how am I supposed to do that when I don't even know who I am?

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