Nobody would like me if they knew the kind of morbid thoughts I have. Nobody likes me anyway so I guess that doesn't matter. Maybe if they knew more things about me instead of my thoughs they would. But they don't. They pretend they do though. I'm the "friend" they call when there's no one else to go out with. I'm the person they count on to have a little extra cash when their birthday rolls around. It's hard when you feel like you have to try to improve yourself for others, so you can get to improve your life afterwards.
& she looks in the mirror, clenching her fist. Ready to break the glass. But then her mouth moves to a frown & the tears roll down until the anger boils up. Anger is where I find my solace.
Sometimes there are days when it seems like they care. I've learned now they don't. This world is just a creul and brutal place where the pretty people are happy and the ugly are slaughtered. I'm sorry I can't be what you need me to be. I'm failing, and aching for something I just cannot receive. I feel like I'm under pressure. The scales, clothes, scissors, food, makeup, cell phones, report cards, mirrors, braces, razors, permanent records, cars, stores, money, people. One second, I think I know what to think, then that second is over. And I'm lost again. I wish I knew how to get what I wanted.
How alone I feel. Where are all those people that wipe the tears off your face when you're crying, wrap their arms around you & tell you you're okay, fill your head with positive thoughts when you need them most?
They're waiting for me to wake up & start being the person I was 5 months ago, right? Wrong. They don't give a fuck who I am. & they sure as hell won't care what I think about them. What's this fucking life for!