Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough to be just me

In order to receive a compliment, or two, or three.

 

Discovering my selfie, you encounter a disguise, 

A perfect image—the end prize.

 

When you see my #ootd, 

You speculate about me.

 

You might analyze my figure, assume my meal was lentil stew, 

When in reality it was more like pizza and Mountain Dew.

 

My clean face and ironed shirt might tell you I’m neat,

But thank God you didn’t notice the carpet stain I hide with my feet.

 

It seems as if my hair always falls perfectly into place,

Yet you were absent during the hours of my detangling disgrace. 

 

You wish you could have eyes as big as mine,

While I scurry to finish photoshopping my next photo by nine.

 

You’re certain my life is simple through my smiley expression,

But do you even know I struggle with depression?

 

The camera tells you I have no flaws,

But you don't realize that I am behind bars.

 

For you see, in reality, I keep myself jailed,

Trapped from revealing the truth for fear of being unveiled.

 

For in our selfies we tell lies.

They’re cropped out snapshots of our fuller lives.

 

The filters—be they makeup, be they digitized,

Hide much more than a blemish and other vice. 

 

For through my selfie can you know my choice?

In my caption, can you really hear my voice?

 

Through the filter you can’t see my daily ambition

To work hard and excel in my career-building mission.

 

You can't comprehend my passion for helping the injured

Through the shallow image of me pictured.

 

In real life I have a funny laugh and I’m a nerd,

But you wouldn’t know because you haven’t heard

 

No camera angle could convey that I’m currently in Ukraine,

Home from being at the hospital all day, helping soldiers through their pain.

 

I play three instruments and varsity sports,

But could you perceive that simply through the color of my shorts? 

 

You see, there’s much more to me than my perfect outfit and a touched-up face,

Many qualities and features that I’d actually not consider a disgrace.

 

See, sometimes I want a complement, or two, or three,

But it occurs to me I’m hiding that which could attain them for me.

 

I filter out my hopes, my talents, my troubles and dreams.

I filter out what’s worth celebrating and sharing in extremes.

 

I want the world to know that I stand out,

That I'm full of life, without a doubt.

 

I want to break free and show you I'm not a bore.

That is why I promise to filter no more.