The Things We Long To Be

A new day, a fresh start, and yet I still feel imperfect. Something's missing, well many somethings in my opinion. That perfect life, hair, skin, yeah blah blah blah. But it hurts on the inside. I can't help but feel, sad whenever I think about my life. What's my purpose? Do I even have one? Am I just here to make a fool of myself? There's nothing a poor girl can do in this world but live. So why live? Why do I hold on? Why should I hold on? What purpose could a poor girl possibly have?