We all find ourselves asking the same thing over and over. Who am I? Some find the answer. Those are the lucky ones. We are the broken ones. The ones who do not see themselves as beautiful. As kind. As happy. We are the ones that do not "get the guy". We see ourselves as fat. Ugly. Worthless. Some escape through death. Most continue with life and feel mistrusted and hated. Lost and alone. Feared and laughed at. If you tell anyone they don't understand. They say things like "it'll get better" or "keep your head up". But you know it'll never get better. You will always be like this. The only ones that are different. You feel like there are no others but we are everywhere. Some are more obvious and some are hidden but we are here. Look around you. Look at everyone closely. They may seem completely confident or comfortable in their skin, in thier life. But they might not be. It is easy to pretend. Hell you might be pretending. That you are happy, confident, full. We know how it is. You can't tell anyone. They will judge you, lie to you. We are the ones that know that even in a black and white world there are still thousands of shades of gray, black, and white. We feel like no one else will ever understand this. We can't tell them. We feel sad and miserable but we continue. We hope it'll get better in the future but we don't know. Some can't take it. They end their lives. We can't. We have to believe it'll be better. It's hard being a broken one. A sad one. Lost. But we can make it. We can live. Because we are strong. We are brave. We are worth everything. And we will be okay. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But eventually we will be okay. We will live. We are the ones.
