When I look in the mirror I think to myself how am I even pretty? I don't see what others see. Why am I me or some sort of version of who I am or was? Why am I the one getting pushed to the edge? Well for me being pushed to the edge. People see me as a vulnerable person. A person who's way to nice. Some people see me as a target because I am that type of person who puts others first before me. Even when I'm crying or sad all the time I still manage to pull myself together just to help that person. I have learned that usually the nice people are usually the only ones who have been or is being targeted. I still don't have an answer on how I'm pretty. I used to be ashamed to be myself (I still kind of am). But now I can embrace and help out others with their problems. I see a girl who doesn't understand why her life is the way it is. I see a weak, frustrated girl who wants all her pain, frustration, sadness, for all that to disappear. I used to think that their was something wrong with me, but their isn't I am only human. I am who I am and nothing can change that. All my life I used to think their was something wrong with me, but now I've begin to realize theirs nothing wrong with me.
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depression stories
PoetryA little bit about me is that I know what it's like to have depression, but not a lot of people really knew that. I never really told anyone anything and just know that your not alone. If you ever need someone to talk to I've helped out so many peop...
