Know one really knows what it's like. What it's like to be so perfect
that it can kill you. To have everything
but really have nothing. Know one knows. I seem pretty happy to
those who see my fake smile that I plaster on before school. Or my
chirpy voice that I practice for hours perfecting. Know one knows.
Behind closed doors, I'm not happy at all. I'm another restless soul
searching for a place where I belong. My parents created the
"picture perfect" family for everyone to see. But behind closed
doors is hell. Fights, glasses broken, tears. Nothing happy. Ive been abused, threatened, and hurt. I work hard to make sure no
one knows what's REALLY going on. But one day they will see. They'll see how their words hurt and scar me. They'll see that they
are the ones who put these jagged red scars on my arm and that they are the reason for my blooming aneroxia. One day they will because one day I will reveal what's behind the closed door.
