When I finally open to someone, and I notice the tears pouring out from their eyes. They look at me with such pain and tell me they had no idea what I was, and still am going through. No one can see it on my outer surface. My outside is not who I am, but who I want to be. I don't want to be the girl with mental illnesses. I don't want to be the girl who never comes home to her father being there. I don't want to come home to my mother screaming at me, never making her proud. I'm everyone of those and I know not very many people actually know. I get close, confide to them, and some look at me differently. I don't want what happens behind closed doors to describe me. I want to be the girl who doesn't lay in bed at night letting the voices take over. I want to be the girl who's father is actually in her life. I want to come home to a relaxed mother who questions how my day was, and never yells. No one would ever have to know what goes on once I step foot through the front door. My life would be normal and maybe, just maybe, that wouldn't be too bad. Maybe I deserve a normal life where I don't have to stay awake for hours at night because my stomach is in knots. I just hate being the girl who pretends her life is amazing, only to come home to horrendous things.
YOU ARE READING
To Feel
PoesíaJust a girl putting her feelings into words. From poems to unsent letters, I pour my soul into each piece. Many of the pieces are about the dark parts of my mind, and wanting types of love that I'll never be able to have.
