Weeding Out

Should I have learned how to be comfortable
With being who I am
Rather than trying to fit the mould
Of cool
Of hip
Of being accepted by all

Watching as they’d toke a bong filled with weed

And not wanting to be next
Because I didn’t have a clue
Really
But wanting to feel included all the same

Should I have not cared so much
To be considered one of the in crowd
When all I actually wanted was
To find my way
To be a friend
To weed out falsehoods

Instead of being next in the conga line of someone else’s life

And being more in touch
With loving who I am
A lot quicker than I did
I might have achieved more

I wouldn’t have sought attention from losers
I may have found the right partner sooner
Perhaps I would have become
A mother
A consistent photographer
A writer like the one

That’s weeding out