LOOK AT ME
Look at me. You may think you see who I really am, but you'll never know me. If I wear a mask, I can fool the world, the people around me, but I can't fool my heart. Why am I fighting a war against myself and the ones who care? Being left alone, with my own mind, is actually quite dangerous. I'm just an insecure mess, and a victim of my own mind.
I want people to care about me, but when they show me that they do, I just push them away.
Nobody cares if I'm miserable anyway, so I might as well pretend that I'm happy. It was just a rebound after I fell out of love with myself. Sometimes I consider asking for help, but no one would believe me, I don't look like one of them. If I died today, tell my parents that I'm sorry that I couldn't be the little girl they always wanted, tell my friends that none of this was their fault, to save their tears and live the amazing lives they deserve.
The blood from my veins feels warm against my cold and pale skin. Scars are tattoos with better stories, but the scars you can't see, are the ones that hurt the most. It's alright, I survived, I'm alive again. Cause of you, I made it through every storm. People have scars. In all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their personal histories. Diagrams of all their wounds. Most of our wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don't. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut's long gone, the pain still lingers.
It's not the kind of sadness to where you cry all the time, but more like the sadness that overwhelms your entire body, leaving your heart aching and your stomach empty. Making you feel weak and tired, and yet you can't even sleep because the sadness is in your dreams too. It's almost a sadness you can't escape. How can a person be filled with life and faith, and then be empty? Where does it all go?
My plastic smile, don't let anybody in. How much will they take before I'm empty? Do I let it show? Does anybody know? There's no need to mask my frailty, because you see the real me, God. What a mess I've made, of my existence. I wonder, when will my reflection in the mirror, show who I am inside? I have people and friends who are there for me all the time, and in return they get a mental, unstable friend. Help me.
Sincerely, Worthless One
