I am a lot of things,
I am queer.
I am a writter.
I am one of "today's teens."
I am an introvert.
I am confused.

However,
I am not going through phase,
I am not good at grammar.
I am not unmotivated.
I am not always, shy and quiet.
I am not invalid.

The tree loses its leaves in winter,
It reagins them in the summer,
And they turn a marvoulous green,
Before turning ruby red in the fall,
And falling off the tree once more.

The tree is still a tree,
I am still me.
Even if I don't know what,
exactly that is,
I know some of what's it's not.

I am not who I was in sixth grade,
I don't know what I'll be senoir year.
I am not who I pretended to be then,
I don't know what I really am.
I am sure only of what I'm not.

I was so afraid for so long,
that confusion discounted me,
As idiotic as it may seem,
I really truly did believe,
That self discovery was a gift not a journey.

There are lots of things I don't know,
There are so many things I don't understand.
But that doesn't discount the fact that,
I know what I am not.