What Is Meaning?

A/N: I usually put these at the end but warning here: This probably will make absolute no sense so plz don't hate. I'm new to writing and so I am still working on developing and finding my own style. Also anyone who steals, copywrites, blah blah blah will be reported. Plz try to enjoy my cringyness and Danke.

What would you do I I died right here, right now?

Would you care?

Would you even notice?

Or would you go on with everyday life.

Until you need me

And you want to use me for something.

Is that all I'm here for?

Questions circle my mind every day, every minute, every second.

Am I worth staying here?

What's my purpose?

God, why would you make me so imperfect when everyone else seems so perfect?

Every time I look at myself in the mirror all I see is failure.

A girl who isn't brave enough or strong enough or smart enough or pretty enough.

A girl who has dreams that can stretch as far as the milky way.

But she'll never chase them.

Because she knows she's not good enough.

But people don't take this seriously,

They don't take her  seriously.

The feeling of pain internally, where you feel that no one understands you.

Where death seems easier than having to wake up the next morning.

In death there is no hurt, no pain, no bruises.

You don't feel worthless. You don't feel, period.

But is something so precious as a life worth taking?

But my question is am I even precious?

Certainly not to me but to whom?

Because for what I'm worth is a piece of dirt.

I say these horrendous things about myself and who is to speak up?

For if we knock ourselves down and there is no one there for us to help build us back up then what happens?

Do we stay down?

On the floor.

In a mess we made.

Being the mess that we are.

But no.

Shall we rise?

Overcome our impeding obstacles.

Be the hero of our story.

Or do we sit back, doing nothing, while watching life unravel before our very eyes.

Feeling the envy as we see the people we know get everything we could have ever wanted.

Seeing someone else being everything we are not.

Everything I am not.

Everything you are not.

Who makes the calls in life?

Because I am tired of being put in the back, hidden away from the world.

Is it supposed to help me?

Why do you treat me differently?

How do you know what I feel?

How do you know what I'm like?

How do you even know me?

The answer is nobody knows you, except for you.

And no one calls shots for you, except for you.

Why do you choose to stay behind?

To cry?

To beat yourself up?

You think that they don't do it too?

Well they do. Everybody does.

So what makes you different?

What makes you fall behind?

The real question is who is in control of your life, making your life what it is now?

Its you.

And only you can change.

You can change it.

I can change it.

We can change it.

What are you waiting for?

Let's do it.