Non-Conformist (A Performance Piece)

I look out at their faces and think to myself,

Well, damn. There goes another shot at being

Something other than what I am. I can’t

Seem to find the right phrasing of words,

The right persona to impersonate,

Or the right brands to wear. And I really,

Really, want to be just like them.

I really want to parade around in

Cut-off jean shorts or worse…

Jeggings.

I really want to weigh less than

My seven year old niece and

Even enjoy the same music

(Justin Beiber, oh yeah).

Maybe, just maybe, one of

These days I’ll take a hammer

And I’ll try to nail Jell-O to a tree.

That’s about how difficult changing

Me into someone like you would be.

And doesn’t that just sound like fun?

I’m sure the tree would love the

Strawberry colored stain on its bark—

That same ridiculous shade that

You use to dot every i and cross every t.

See, I like being who I am.

I like being the person who wakes up at 3AM

Not to go jogging but to roll over and

GO BACK TO SLEEP!

I like my ice cream, ramen, and three

Different types of nerdism. No,

It’s not a word, but who gives a fuck?

Yes, I’ve got a “potty mouth” and no

I don’t live with my parents so why should I care?

They curse just as much as I do and twice as loud,

You should have heard the noise complaint—

Neighbors thought we were blaring some

Hardcore screaming death metal.

So yes, I’d love to join your little club.

I’d love to be in your clique and sit at

Your table at lunch. I’ll even let you sign

My yearbook. I’ll sign yours under my picture—

I’m the one flipping off the photographer.