I like to say that 

I’m tall.

 

I’m actually not.

 

170 centimeters is a average height 

for a woman.

 

Average. That’s a term that I don’t like.

What else don’t I like? 

well, I don’t like 

comparing myself to people,

 I don’t like 

being mean for no reason,

 I don’t like 

being behind in every situation

 

Average

 

I like to say

 that I’m not

 

I like to dress weird 

 

on purpose 

to trick myself into thinking 

I’m special 

 

I like to say things to shock people

even if sometimes I go too far and they

squint their eyes at me

suspiciously

 

I also like fruit.

 

Like a lot.

 

When I was sixteen I only ate apples

over 10 a days 

 

I wasn’t really happy back then.

But they told me I looked good 

and that they never sow me so skinny 

and beautiful.

 

I like to be beautiful

I love when people compliment my hair,

my pretty face 

 

they told me I look like a doll with my round face

reed cheeks, golden locks and quirky smile

 

I don’t feel like a doll 

I don’t like being thrown around 

I don’t like being told to shut up

and most of all I don’t like being touched.

 

I fucking hate when people insist to touch me.

even if I don’t want to

even if  I don’t say no aloud.

 

I like to say that I’m tall.

 

but I don’t mean it physically.

 

my voice is tall

my mind is tall 

but my personality is not.

my personality is  117 centimeters, the exact equivalent of a five year old with a sugar rush.

 

like a bad one.

You know, when they start screaming and running in circles?

exactly.

but again

I’m not innocent enough to be that child

 

but

 

If I’m not tall

If I’m not average

If I’m not a doll

 

If I’m not a child

 

then

then

 

what am I?