That girl

I’m that girl.
The girl who acts happy
Even if she’s dying inside.
The girl with the guy.
And the looks to die for.

I’m the loner.
She sits quietly on the park bench.
Making jokes that falls on closed ears.
Having no friends to cry on.
She sits quietly and listens.

I’m Colorful.
I wear colors.
Red, blue, pink, green, indigo.
Anything to stand out from the crowd.
I don’t want to be mistaken.

I am outgoing.
I speak what I think.
Anything to call your attention.
I don’t care.

I’m quiet.
You can’t hear my voice sometimes.
It may be because I don’t like you
I don’t trust you.
Sorry, it’s your fault.

I am your friend.
You think you know me
You don’t know the half of it.

I am confident.
I stride down the hallways.
I own all of you.
Hang my head high
And smile.

I am insecure.
I hang my head low.
Don’t comment on me.
I don’t think I can take it.

I am beautiful.
All my flaws
They make me perfect.
My legs, my face, the roll of my hips, my beauty marks, my hair, and the color of my eyes.

I’m Black. White. Porto-Rican. Indian. Asian. Skinny. Tall. Short. Curvy. Insecure. Confident. Colorful. Shy. That girl. Your friend. The Loser.

Most important, I’m me.