During class, my teacher asks us to describe each other's fashion. 

One girl says our clothes show our personalities and goes on to describe how she saw every one of us.

She says that I am very simple and cheerful.

My teacher agrees, saying that I seem to be the type to not overthink problems.

I forgive and I forget, easily, she says.

I smile and hide my reddening face behind my hands. Really? really? I ask, and they assure me, yes.

I am so proud of myself for finally learning how to keep my thoughts inside.

But then another girl says that she disagrees.

She says,

"I think she is very complicated

hard to understand

the things she says are thought provoking and sometimes dark

I don't know how to explain it."

And the discussion moves on, but I suddenly feel exposed.

She knows. She knows! I can no longer hide.

Maybe it is because I showed her my writing before, the words from my heart, the desperate lies and truth.

These are my insecurities,

the things I ought to keep inside.

They are dangerous and powerful

and sometimes,

uncontrollable.

Maybe I should erase this poem

-- pretend that I am whole

more poems here