A poem about me

Some days I'm loud,
some days I disappear
into my own head
and forget the world exists.

I have too many thoughts
and not enough words for them.
So I turn them into stories,
characters,
little pieces of worlds
where everything makes sense
even when I don't.

I'm full of contradictions.

I want to be alone,
but I don't want to feel lonely.
I want to be noticed,
but I hate being watched.
I want to be understood,
but I rarely explain myself.

Maybe I'm difficult.

Maybe I'm just different.

I've never really known
which one I'm supposed to be.

I dream too much
for someone who's expected
to be practical.

I make plans
I don't know how to reach,
then chase them anyway.

Sometimes I wonder
if I'm wasting my time.

Then I remember—

I'd rather waste my time
becoming someone I actually want to be
than spend my life
becoming someone everyone else approves of.

So let me be messy.

Let me change my mind.
Let me fail.
Let me start again
at ridiculous hours
with ridiculous ideas
and far too much hope.

I don't have everything figured out.

Honestly,
I don't even have most things figured out.

But I'm still here.

Still dreaming.
Still creating.
Still becoming.

And maybe, for now,

that's enough.