Life built this person; She is made out of "must do's" and "have to's. She is made out of wide smiles, encouragement, and aiming for perfection. She is made out of "I can", "I did" and "of course I will".
She is made out of eyeshadow, hair color and piercings that make her feel better, but she is always feeling not quite enough. So she tucks in one more hair, straightens her clothes, dusts her shoulders off and feels better. Neater. She is made out of NORMAL. Trying to fit in, looking put together enough that nobody will notice. She straightens her shirt again.
She doesn't have time to feel weak. She doesn't have the strength to find courage. So she keeps going, in a straight line of "what I have to do" and "it is what it is". She cries. She cries so much that she carries around her makeup, because it would look bad if her eyes were red and her mascara ran. She still smiles though. She will ask you about your day, eager to hear positivity, stories, anything, to make her forget time.
She had dreams and goals, and craves to be better. So she can belong. Somewhere. Anywhere. Her emotions run wild and her mind over thinks, making it impossible for her to settle down. She is tired of crying even when her hurt isnt the hurt she is feeling.
She decides everything based off a pros and cons list that she will dissect 15 times. Finally she will say, "honestly I have no preference, I'm sorry I cant help make the decisions". She became scared to choose. Scared to speak, because nobody will probably care to listen anyway. She became scared to learn, for failure is almost always the ending result in her mind. Things just dont go in her favor. She accepts this.
She became detached, and mute. She became a stranger sleeping in my clothes. Wrapped in my blanket. Feeling my feelings, projecting my thoughts. She can't figure out how to stand, to step forward, move past her emotions. She doesn't know how to be put together. So she shatters, and disappears shard by shard. She hides the chaos behind her eyes. She decided nobody would accept her if she couldn't even accept herself.
She stopped trying to give pieces of herself away.
She has two choices now; turn to dust, or become a kaleidoscope