Level 4 Friend

“You seem like such a normal, together person”

Do I though?

You’ve known me for a week.

You don’t know what’s underneath my bubbly smile and laugh.


You haven’t seen me at my worst.

You know the girl who can joke about herself.

The girl who smiles at herself in the mirror when she knows she looks on point.

The girl who can go up and talk to anyone.

I was not that girl two years ago.

Maybe I won’t be the same girl in two years.

You never saw the tears,

rolling down my cheeks,



full of secrets I’ll never tell.


You never saw me

through the stumbles and the stutters;

the awkward teenage years.

And not in the cutesy awkward way,

like the kind that’s portrayed

in books and movies and TV shows.

But the actually





You never knew the thoughts that ran through my brain

like tornados and hurricanes

at once.

Tore me apart so often,

I just gave up

putting myself back together.


You never knew how close I was

to turning that semi-colon into a period.




Not many people know.

And why should they?

What do I owe them?

I’m sorry, you have to be a level 4 friend

to unlock my tragic backstory.

Well, I guess now you do know.

You know that if it hadn’t gotten better

If I hadn’t gotten my shit together,

I might not be here,

right now.

But I’ll just laugh it off,




“Yeah, I just have good make up.”


Performed at Raise the Bar on January 27, this poem is about how first impressions may be incorrect and how there is so much strangers don’t know about you.

This poem has been originally published on Loe&Behold on 15/03/2016 here.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s