Dear Self,

Why can't you get this right?

Why do I slip

Down one-way, two-way, three-way streets

When you're at the helm of my mind?

 

I am unbalanced

I am chaotic 

I am the definition of ambivalance

 

Dear Self,

I only remember to forget

I only succeed after I fall

I chase oppurtunities

Met with slammed doors, too little too late.

 

I am organized under the stacks

And piles, and jumbles, and mounds

Of my mind palace

 

Dear Self, 

I avoid latters and open umbrellas indoors

I stumble pass doorways

And hallways and rooms

Wandering in search of something unknown.

 

I am superstitious

I am clumsy

I am the anomoly people write about in Dystopian Utopias.

 

Dear Self,

You aren't perfect, that much is true

But I forgive you.

We can ameliorate this spurn 

And extricate ourselves from convoluted caprices.

 

You aren't perfect

But you're mine

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

 

Dear Self,

Let's do this.