My Honest Poem

I was born on July 17, that makes me a cancer. When I googled what that meant, I learned I’m supposed to be over emotional and odd, I guess I can see it. I’m 5 foot 7. I weigh a hundred and fifty six pounds and I have short hair that I partially dyed blue and green. I don’t know how to surf and I’m a sucker for a boy with nice hair and a bright smile that for the most part, scares the hell out of me. I’m told I don’t know how to whisper, not that I know how to speak anyways. I’m often too quiet to be noticed, or so people say. I like cranberries, a little too much. I’ve been told I’m mad awkward and look like I’m scared of everything around me, that’s because I am. I’m often scared of people that I care about. I’m still learning how to maintain eye contact and sometimes it feels really like I’m invading they’re soul and even though it’s supposed to make me pay attention, I tend to get lost in people’s eyes. I read Erotica, mostly because I enjoy the high of a sentiment I don’t experience first hand. I think it’s safe that way, you see like the high I feel, relationships don’t last that long. But unlike the temporary high I feel, I tend to fall in love with boys who will never love me back, for quite a while. The other day I stumbled across the boy with the nice hair and bright smile, I wanted to be civilized, wave a hello, have a conversation, instead I tripped over my emotions and fell face first into my pride, which then shattered the way my heart did when I noticed pretty boy looked embarrassed to know me. Still I stood up and walked the walk of shame stepping all over my shattered pride and lock-in myself up in a room I hate too much. I’ve never had a TBI, but I have a Purple Heart I got it from worrying to much and bottling up my emotions. I know it sounds weird but I fear that if people were to walk into the body I call home they would then stumble across the dark rooms in my mind where I keep the skeleton of the girl I once was, skeletons of all the imaginary friends I had, friends that died along with the old me. Hi my name is Gio. I enjoy sour fruits, people watching, talking to absolute strangers and laughing for no reason But, I don’t allow myself to feel as much as I should. Cry as much as I need to. I have a tear-powered smile, a food powered self esteem. My hobbies include writing down the story I wish to tell my grandchildren, thinking of the future I wish to have and sucking up tears I fear will escape my eyes and trying to convince my shadow there’s no read to hide. I don’t know much but I know this One day I’ll remember today and laugh One day I’ll be happy and forget how much I’ve cried.