It's hard. You can't even
imagine.
When your family behaves
like you're
an insensitive robot.
When you just want to
tell them
everything you
keep
bottled up inside,
but then you remember.
They won't get it.
It's always too complicated.
It's puberty, they say.
No, I think.
It's insecurity.
About everything;
your looks,
your smile,
your legs.
It's much harder than you think.
Families just don't
understand.
Especially mine.
When you have
younger siblings who seem
to be more loved
than you.
It hurts so badly
you can't even think of it.
It's where self-harm
came from.
At least for me.
I don't fit in reality.
In the beauty ideal.
I'm immediately judged.
