The #RoastYourself Challenge

So one of my best friends challenged me to do the #RoastYourself challenge.

Challenge accepted. (This is obviously only in written format because it’s a blog)


Where do I even commence?


How bout

I say I want to date a gent

But I can’t talk to any men,

Or flirt

Or send

A text to say I want to begin

This relationship…

I mean…friendship

Because I seem to friendzone every guy

Whose profile I swipe right

Because my standards are too high.

I say I’m really desperate

But also fed up with it

Is my singleness permanent?

I don’t know

Why don’t you tell me bout it?


I’m non binary

But my boyfriend might run away from me

Since I dress too manly

And question my sexuality

And crush on a girl

Who’ll never like me in reality


I dye my hair to look cool

But I pity the fool

Who bleaches their strands

Four times

Because she can’t stand

Her natural hair.

…oh wait. That’s me.


I’m Chinese,

Yet people find me

So white

Because my skin’s light

And I can barely write

Any mandarin

I don’t know

well known



Or films

Or songs

Yet I find it wrong

When others don’t know pop punk.


Back in high school

I was smarter and way less cool

Science was my tool

To get into Uni

I took all the honours

Now they’re a goner.

Started to get Cs and Ds

And dropped them from my degree

I tell people I work on a Bachelor of Arts…

….in health sciences

And I’m met with confused silences.

I try to explain,

But I never sound truly sane

I’m a failure to the science kids

And a failure to the arts kids

I tack on a minor

To make it all better

Yet I’m still not a go-getter


I want to make music

But don’t confuse it

With a melody

Since I can’t compose it

And try not to show it

But my lyrics aren’t that great

Without music to it.

I’d like to record a song

But I sing half the notes wrong

By myself..

Once my vocal partner is gone.


I say I play guitar

But in 5 years

I still can’t hold a bar…


And I never made it that far

By self teaching

Cause I’m just not that smart.


I call myself a slam poet,

But poetry slams,

I can’t go to it

Because I stutter

And my voice ain’t like butter

How I have a radio show,

I don’t even know


 I burnt grilled cheese

And I’m scared of bees

And I want to believe

I won’t die alone

With cats and dogs with fleas


I talk too loud

I’m queer and proud

But do people even care

Probably not.


Is this worth blogging

And instagramming

and tweeting

cause I’m always on the Internet

Yet I’m not even interesting.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s