a poem by a girl named Michelle

[bebepats]

one of my favorite books is called Living, Loving and Learning.  it's by a wonderful man called Leo Buscaglia.  i knew about this book because my best friend from high school, Grace, told me about it, and i got myself a copy about a hundred years ago, which i'd lost sometime ago somewhere in our jungle of a house.

anyways, there's this poem there that i've been looking for all over online, and found about three nights ago.  it was written by a girl named Michelle who killed herself.  i would've liked to have met her.  it's so sad she chose to go... she would've made a wonderful (albeit angry) writer.

here's the poem...

I Am Neither A Sacrilege Or A Privilege.
I May Not Be Competent or Excellent, But I Am Present.

My happiness is me, not you.
Not only because you may be temporary,
But also because you want me to be what I am not.

I cannot be happy when I change
Merely to satisfy your selfishness.
Nor can I feel content when you criticize
me for not thinking your thoughts,
Or for seeing like you do.
You call me a rebel.
And yet each time I have rejected your beliefs
You have rebelled against mine.
I do not try to mold your mind.
I know you are trying hard enough to be just you.
And I cannot allow to tell me what to be -
for I am concentrating on being me.

You said that I was transparent
And easily forgotten.
But why then did you try to use my lifetime
To prove to yourself who you are?