Each story begins when you’re young.

For me, I had to move schools

and at first it was fun

Because I was the “new girl”,

And it’s not like they knew me.

Couldn’t see that I loved everyone,

Blind to my inner beauty.

“Weirdo”. was the name I was called

When they saw me and the autistic kid walking down the hall

Because you can’t be friend to the friendless in this town,

You gotta play the popularity game, gotta tear the friendless down,

So I told them where they could stick their precious status quo

Gave the one-finger salute to all the jerks who didn’t know

Who I was on the inside

But the pain just got worse

The only way I saw out was a plan to reverse

My progress, the process of finding myself

So instead I put myself on the forgetting shelf

And on that stupid shelf, Chelsea lost herself

And lost her friends, and her mom, and her mental health

I lost my passion and happy,

And I sold my soul

So I could have all the friends that I never had before

And it worked!

My social life is a holy temple that I have built

Brick by precious brick.

Now the school halls have lined walls

Of people who want to kick

It with me,  little me,

Little, cute and crazy Chelsea

But they don’t know what goes on.

Though the pain isn’t there, the pain isn’t gone.

And the words in my head and the hurt gets too strong

So my ipod drowns out the words with the songs

But don't you dare leave me home alone for too long

Because my demons still have me on a chain

No one can feel or understand,

Not even my smoking hot boyfriend

When I'm holding his hand,

Or my bubbly friends,

Who all have baggage of their own

We're spiritually bankrupt with an emotional loan

And we're trying to pay it back,

But we're sinking in debt

From every day that we live

To every pain we can't forget,

And we fake like we're happy

Overcompensate what we lack

Because we think if we fake well enough it'll put us in the black

        So that’s where I stay.

And I’m praying for more strength

Because I hate being nice to the kids who called me gay

And what about the kid

I tried to punch in seventh grade?

The basketball player who thought the reason he was made

Was to judge my body and to call me names.

But by high school I learned how not to place the blame

And to just let it happen,

Boys will be boys,

And girls are eye-candy, don’t make any noise.

        I used to buy it, used to cover my morals

Used to value rocket scientists less than models

And this is one area where I’ve exposed who I am,

Because there is no difference between woman and man,

But I digress.  I am so full of passion

That I’m afraid they won’t understand my compassion

Like I don’t eat things with thoughts or nerves

But people always eat me alive with their words

Even if they don’t say them out loud.

You know I can feel them.

I’ll read you aloud like the words in my poems.

I’m a feminist, an activist,

A hippie, and a liberal,

Raise a hand with your labels

I’ll raise my hand in the role call.

        I’m blunt, but honest

I love and I hate

With a ferocity that’s barely held in by the gate

Of my training.

Conditioning.

My home and my past.

My god and my bible

My employers and class,

Subdued by my teachers,

My friends and my students,

My classmates and teammates

And all of their parents.

By Michelle Obama telling me what to eat,

By Cinderella shaping who I should be,

Wait… when did this list stop being

The tools of self-control

And instead started being

The infinite roll

Of oppression?

This pressure is strapped to my back,

It’s not from any confidence I lack,

It’s just external forces that are tying my hands

And human reactions I don’t understand

Just forget all of this pop-culture sleaze

If individualism is a disease

I’m the epicenter of the epidemic

Triple A: artistic, activist, academic.