If lies could be read

Crybaby

Clyde P.O.V

They will never understand no one ever does, they assume your fine they go by what they see.
They see a boy living in a dream world, the popular kid, the one everyone wants to be.

Boy are they wrong.

If only they knew the half of it. If only they dug a little deeper or if I opened up more.

The real me is Clyde Donovan the 16 year old boy who cries like a fucking baby.
The me I created is a popular guy who hasn't got a care in the world other than sports, street cred and Bebe ugh.

That creates a good image doesn't it if only it were real.
Well I used to have this other...ego a couple of months ago I managed to break out of my phase but I'd rather not bring myself to talk about it. Lets just say Bebe is definitely not the first girl I've had 'relations' with.

I always tell myself 'never go back to that shit' but then a part of me thinks that it would be a lot better than this, having to actually act like a normal person without crying.
Back then all I had to do was be hot, charming and confident it's pretty easy, but now that I'm with her I have to change my routine.
I can't flirt because she'll think I'm cheating on her, I cant pretend to be confident easily because Bebe has knocked down my self esteem (or what was left of it.)

She has told me that I'm fat and ugly and I'm lucky to have her, reminds me every day.

I have this fake image to cover myself up, to hide the real me, to stay locked behind a door that no one can even be bothered to open. If they could find a key to open this door they would see my sadness, my pain my guilt and worst of all my lies.

If only someone would listen if only I could tell someone these things, get them off my chest but no one wants to talk about that crap.

They wouldn't ever talk to me if they found out I was a cry baby.
This is part of the problem I have two sides to myself the fake one and the real one.

The real one is a sad boy who cries himself to sleep every night, the fake one is the happy carefree teen who has self-confidence and has no problem speaking his mind.

So that's the basic summary of me I'm a popular kid who wears a mask of fake happiness.

   All I want is for someone to care, ever since my mom died 6 years ago I've had no one except for my alcoholic dad and few 'friends' and they obviously are no help.

My girlfriend is only with me because apparently you're lucky to date a fuckboy.

She has never shown me real love and It's obvious that she's cheating on me, which just gives me even more reason to let the cold salty streams run down my skin.

Those thoughts rush through my brain everyday, your worthless, no one loves you, you fucking man whore can't even be honest, liar.

Nothing can drown them out not even my everlasting river of tears.
They're just there to remind me that I'm a waste of space, a failure, a disgrace to my mother.

"Clyde, Clyde" yells that annoying high pitched bitch that criticizes me everyday, "the fuck your supposed to listen to me I'm your girlfriend."

I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes "yes honey what is it" I say in the only tone she approves which is anything but depressed.

Bebe knows how I am but she doesn't care, she didn't listen.
I tried to open up to her but she just told me to never slip up and to keep up my 'act' or she would look stupid .
"I said I need a new bff you know so I can have slumber parties an do girly stuff. Also to show you off of course" she emphasises the last part poking my nose trying to seem cute in front of the people walking past my locker.
"You better not ruin it for me got it" she says in a deadly hushed tone.
I viciously nod my head and run to the bathroom.