i can't stand the idea of you hurting yourself,
over this guy that doesn't even want you,
over this family that can't even accept you,
over these friends that won't even help you.
i can't stand the idea of you hating yourself,
because this guy can't love you,
because this family doesn't want to accept you
because your friends won't even help you
you can't stand the idea of this guy falling in love with someone else?
this family shunning you?
your friends leaving you?
i can't believe,
you would let that beautiful brain of yours think of such thoughts,
opinions of people that don't get to decide who you are.
experiencing depression's difficult.
there's all these thoughts,
then there's being empty.
add anxiety,
an everyday problem.
add a couple more disorders,
and hell.
you think this is all a hyperbole?
let me tell you, another story.
"once upon a time,
a lovely child grew up.
looking in the mirror,
she says 'when will i be pretty?'
they'll say 'when you become a teenager'
so she waited.
waited patiently.
teenager years,
she looked in the mirror again.
circles under her eyes,
imperfect nose,
pimples,
with a broken heart,
and shattered dreams,
she mutters;
'but... i'm still not pretty.'
older she grew,
not only did she earn more dark circles,
she earned the tired look in her eyes,
the cracked lips,
the broken smile,
but her insides were a turmoil.
sexuality's under question,
fear of finding out,
fear of rejection-
insecurities piling up,
thoughts tumbling over each other.
what if's.
but's.
she looked in the mirror,
and broke down sobbing.
'when will i be pretty?!'
the next thing you'll know
is she's locked herself in the bathroom,
blood dripping from her wrists, her thighs
tears streaming down her face
she doesn't know herself anymore.
do you?"
we all end up being her.
or maybe we don't, and live a happy mediocre life.
