Self-discovery, decided by others

We decide who you are,

A very simple process it is.

First we analyse what you wear

Then your hairstyle,

The way you speak.

How intellectual you are

Your hobbies, interests

Even your friends.

With all this in mind, I think about it

And wonder, who am I?

According to this strange system,

I am a total mix-up,

A confused mess of similarities.

Take it one at a time:

What do I wear? Depending on my mood

I wear all black, eyes outlined in kohl

So I must be a Goth, but what about

The next day? Me in my colourful

Shorts and shirt, swinging high

On the old, creaky swing, trying

To fly. Unsuccessful, I fly momentarily

Jumping off in mid-swing,

Climbing the goalposts in the park.

People yelling, me staring

Laughing, swinging

To the ground.

So, my hairstyle must be judged,

To get closer to a decision.

I wear my lanky brown hair loose sometimes

And sometimes I dye it auburn

Letting it hang straight.

Then I plait it, coil it into a bun

Straighten it, curl it

Anything goes, really. But I suppose

I mostly wear it loose.

I like to feel it blow across my face

When I’m swinging, or just standing

In the wind, grey day, long grass

I am wild and free…

You want to skip a few? You laugh, saying

Lets go to friends, or,

Grinning,

Lack of. I don’t have many, that is true

I do not feel the need to be part of a large group

Collection of clones, I am not a clone!

I am myself, wild and free

So most people dislike me, so what?

I am alone, with an infinite number of friends

In the trees, the sky

The pelting rain, tornado winds

Calming me, comforting me

Smile on my face, I am alone

And happy.

You don’t see it that way, you like to say

I am unpopular, disliked, hated

Because I am so stupid for being so smart

I shouldn’t even be alive. Or take a more

Objective view: I don’t make a good friend,

I spend too much time alone, strange…

I have a friend. You just don’t know her

And you wouldn’t like her even if you did.

You don’t care though, you’ve made your choice

And I’ve made mine.

Yours: I am a freak, too different every day

Moods swinging too much, unable to categorise

Mine: I am myself, unable to categorise

Moods changing, but one thing stays the same.

I am wild and free, expressive and emotional.

What matters is not that I do something

But why I do it

And the why is what makes us what we are.