I know who I was
four, five years ago
and she's not who I want to be
the kind of girl who didn't discriminate
the kind of girl who couldn't keep things straight
the kind of girl whose friends would leave
the kind of girl who wished she didn't have to be
working or breathing or anything really

I know who I want to be
I want to be who I was at seventeen
happy-go-lucky
overachieving
skinny
pretty
enchanting

and who am I now
a struggling, floundering, weakling
overwrought and underwater
a work in progress, a mess
all scaffolding and draping and hoping to come out
at my best

and you don't want to know
but what you hold against me
is the in between,
the patched walls
the lack of sheen
not a virgin baby with soft skin
but hardened and broken
and working on it

and although I'll never be me
at seventeen
I can try to be happy
and I can keep getting lucky
and I can make myself skinny
and paint on the pretty
and be interesting