coffee and cardigans and contradictions

I am sharp features and a sharper tongue--
I joke that my nose walks into a room before I do 
and I am far too sarcastic for most people's taste
 
I am long hair and a living body,
the latter I am still learning to love 
 
I am an obnoxious laugh 
that I covered up for years before learning to embrace my quirks 
 
I am a listener; I am a storyteller 
I can paint pictures of thousands of your memories and my own 
I probably remember too many seemingly insignificant details
but I've never been good at distinguishing 
between what's important and what isn't 
 
I am an observer 
of people 
of the world 
of everything but myself 
I am a list of things I love 
I love:
sweaters
reading
rainy days
music 
small animals
the Internet 
my family
my friends
and I am working on myself 
 
I can never quite form my thoughts the way I want to so I am often frustrated 
I am good grades that could be better 
(and also maybe a little self deprecating) 
I am silent panic attacks in the back of classrooms 
(and not so silent ones running through the halls to the bathroom before I completely collapse)
I am pieces of my friends and family 
(but only my favorite ones)
I am considered a liberal in my family (and I'm okay with that) 
 
I am a cynical human being looking for love in a cynical world 
I am unfinished thoughts 
and a notebook and purse full of notes 
written to remember important things 
(which end up useless because I don't remember to look at them)
 
I say I don't believe in ghosts,
but when I was little I interrupted my mother talking to say hello to my great grandfather who I never got the opportunity to meet 
I am curiosity and an overactive imagination 
I have always had too many questions to ask and hope I will never run out 
 
I am knitting needles and unfinished projects 
I am overused CDs because some albums are worth more than a digital download 
I am black coffee 
and coffee with cream and sugar 
and would-you-like-some-coffee-with-your-sugar on mornings I am too tired even to see 
 
I am baking at Christmas with my mom and hers,
making homemade pizza with my brother until the day we won't anymore, 
(and never letting him live down the fact that I am one minute older than him)
 
I am words I will never say because I am too afraid to 
I am words on a page and to some that might be a sad way to exist 
but for me it is enough
This poem is about: 
Me

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