Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Perceived

I have a fear of being perceived.

About what people think of me.

If they'll like me.

I overthink every interaction I have.

Everything I wear.

Do.

Think.

Will someone make fun of the things I listen to?

What I read?

My makeup?

Or what I wear?

What I write or paint?

Do they like me?

Do they think I'm ugly?

Do they notice the way my hair sticks out or the red patches on my skin?

I hate knowing that they can be thinking about me and I don't know what they think .

Hate not knowing if they are laughing.

I wish I was invisible.

So no one can perceive me at all.