So, I'm short.
I don't mean a cute, 5'2 short.
I mean, haven't grown since 6th grade short.
I mean no one can take me seriously because they think I'm 12 short.
I mean spending hours in the mall trying to find age appropriate clothes that fit, short.
"Shortstack" "gnome" "midget"
"How's the weather down there?"
Every. Single. Day. It's the first thing anyone notices, first thing they have to comment on.
There's the captain of the cheer squad, the jocks, the burnouts,
And then there's me. I'm just the "the short one." not "Kallie", not "the musician", not "the writer", not even "oh, the shy girl in my english class." no title im proud of having.
Growing sideways,
growing disproportionate,
Awkward pudge here,
Bonyness there,
I wanna break my fucking mirror.
All I see is baby teeth, rosy cheeks for pinching, sleeves falling off my shoulders, my jacket swallowing me alive, pants ripping at my hips,
I don't fit.
A teenager stuck in a child's body.
I'm tired of feeling so small.
A waste of the little space I take up.
I don't wanna be everyone's arm rest, or just someone to shove in the backseat of the car,
I wanna be beautiful.
I just want there to be enough of me.
I just wanna be enough.
YOU ARE READING
Error.
De Todorants. poetry. life theories. philosophy. scraping the corners of my mind for words to put on digital paper. an informative guide. updated triweekly Most importantly, how I'm coping with mental illness and surviving the lowest point in my entire lif...
