Would I be Better?

Would I be better?

I've spent so long just listening

afraid to talk.

Afraid to say something that you would use to tear me down

afraid to laugh at something you didn't think was funny

afraid that I wasn't good enough for you.

But if I had never sat next to the new girl on the first day of second grade,

would I be better?

Because my heart still races at the thought of talking to new people

and my hands still tremble at the thought of them judging me.

But if I had never played Barbies with the girl down the street when I was six years old,

would I be better?

Would I still be so cripplingly shy

that the thought of talking to people makes me want to burst into tears

or that knowing that people are going to read my poems makes me lose sleep?

Would I still sit in school writing,

scared out of my mind that someone is reading it over my shoulder?

If I had never met you

would I be better?

Because I still feel trapped with you

like I can't escape your world no matter how hard I try.

Like I've been here too long to be able to leave.

Like your critical glare will always be there

analyzing my every move

waiting for me to trip so you can push me down harder.

If I had never met either of you

would I be better?

I don't want to be scared any more.

I just want to be better.

And I guess if you're reading this

I am.

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