Forever cursed to hide, because the real me no one likes. They refuse to let me be myself, because it isn't accepted.
Imagine this, my dear, to have a moment in my shoes. You are yourself, correct? What if everyone called you a different name, with pronouns that you are not. They have crafted their own identity for you, with nothing aligning to what your soul knows is true. How would that make you feel? When you try to tell them who you really are, they shout at you, calling you a Monster. Telling you that you're just confused, and that you are lying. They tell you all you'll ever be is their image, their design of who THEY want you to be. That's all you'll ever be, who THEY want you to be. So you're stuck behind this façade, eager to please, never being yourself. Because Their opinions are the only ones that matter, right? Because you are truly nothing. Unimportant. Worthless. Their feelings are all that matter. Every word They say lashes you like a whip, creating wound after wound. Scar after scar. All you can do is put on a smile, as tears leak down your face. An eternity of meeting their standards, never allowed to be yourself.
