Call Me Out

Call me out: I’m overbearing

An oversharing, constantly embarrassing myself

I’m not, like, trying to

Not trying rude to you, not trying to be crude to you

I’m constantly being excused.

Reusing old devices and vices

Never being alluded to and I’m constantly confused,.

Because my mind doesn’t work the same as yours, friend,

I break and bend

I always forget to to hit send

Like, literally too: I leave things hanging: Dangling over my head

Am I gonna catch this one?

Or am I gonna leave this metaphorical record broken?

Also

I always blame myself in a self deprecating style

I’ll cut my leg off in style before running the mile

Add this to the pile:

Of things I’ll blame on myself

‘Cause I would hate to be selfish, friend

But, no, just you wait a while

Until someone comes along and blames me

Just you see: I have no vulnerabilities

When I’m blaming myself, but when someone calls me out on my shit

I’m as vulnerable as a fucking baby left crying in the middle of a crowded shopping mall

You see, I’ll mold to society’s casting call

“Calling all teenage girls who feel

Like they’ve become way too damn small”

But don’t blame society, we’ve been chained up against our own sobriety

Forcing ourselves to realize that we’re not the innocent standers by

But it’s not like we’re gonna do anything about it

Also

I’m one of those hip to it

I’ll look over it while I take a sip of this overcaffeinated shit

Teenagers who preaches and teaches

About the notion of change in the world

I get angry at my elders when they don’t understand us millennials

Because people are born this way and all of us in this world are created equal

And America throws out one third of their food

But won’t stop to give a homeless immigrant a dollar

And stop stereotyping sexuality

And gender is a fucking spectrum and all that shit

And yet

It’s not like I’ve got a plan to change the way the earth rotates

And I know I don’t create change, I buy it

I don’t stop to give that homeless person a dollar: I’m too shy

And guilty because I haven’t stopped in a while

And I’ve been put on this trial of sorts

Because if I don’t stereotype sexuality

Why do I lie in bed at night, wondering why I liked that boy in elementary school for four years

But all of my crushes have been girls for the past two?

And I like all the actresses more that the actors

See, I preach about freedom of speech and love

And I pretend I have this higher knowledge, I stand above

Obviously

But I’m no freer than anybody else, friend

And it’s not like I’m that quick to set trends or make amends

I mostly pretend, like I’m still that giddy six year old in pink tutus

I don’t know myself, but I claim to know you

So, you tell me: Who am I?

Call me out on it.