When I was a child
I didn’t know it was wrong.
Stupid, weirdo, crybaby.
I hadn’t known
They were making fun of me.
I hadn’t known
It wasn’t a game.

I thought I was stupid
For not understanding their jokes.
Their games. Their conversations.
I still don’t.
But that’s okay.

I thought I was weird
For being different.
My thoughts. Interests. Actions.
I haven’t changed.
But that’s okay.

I thought I was a crybaby
For getting upset.
Tears falling. No reason why.
I still cry sometimes.
But that’s okay.

It’s okay, because now I know
That they were wrong.

I’m not stupid, I’m clever
For not falling for their tricks.
For not stooping to their level.
I knew what I needed
And I didn’t need them.

I’m not weird, I’m unique
For not acting like the group.
For not changing who I was.
I knew who I was
And I wouldn’t be them.

I’m not a crybaby, I’m strong
For not letting it become too much.
For not keeping it bottled inside.
I knew what I felt
And I felt better without them.

I can go by many names.
Stupid, weirdo, crybaby.
Clever, unique, strong.
They don’t tell the whole story.
Only a small part.
There’s only one name that matters.
Mine.

Call me by my name.