noelle's thoughts

fake it? no, fuck it.

fake it? no, fuck it.

"come on, girl.

splash some cold water on your face, girl.

powder your cheeks to hide the tear stains from the world, girl.

smile pretty, be polite.

don't be in a mood, girl.

one bad day should not make you feel

this way, girl.

you'll get over it soon, girl.

you have to pretend for the rest of the night," they say.

"put on a smile, dry your eyes.

you're being dramatic, don't put up a fight.

don't embarrass yourself any further."

well, to that, I say:

"fuck you."

you know not what I've been through.

do not patronize me,

make my sadness seem like something so petty as to hormones.

fuck you.

I've got my own problems to deal with right now, and this one minuscule issue was the tip of the iceberg.

don't tell me to "suck it up."

don't tell me to "stop making a scene."

I am a strong, iron ship that seems as though it could never sink.

I support those around me throughout each day and night,

carrying them through their sea of a journey,

helping them stay afloat in desperate times of need.

but you see, I am like the Titanic.

I sink.

But unlike the Titanic, I resurface.

On my own.

and I don't need you to fucking push me into a happier state,

because frankly, you're just making it even worse.

so, once again:

"fuck you."