Tell me...
Tell me who you are
Tell me something about you
Tell me your name, what you do...
Tell me...tell me
What makes you happy and what makes you sad...
Tell me what you think when you go the river...
When you climb in that big tree, what do you see...
Tell about that tattoo on your neck...
That scar above your left eye...
Tell me... What's your favorite color,
Your favorite song...
That book you always carry around...
Tell me what inspires you...
Tell me about your world...
Because i would like to be part of it...

I am hollow and afraid
I wonder - do they see my pain?
I hear echoes of the rain
      the downpour inside my brain
I see the drops falling down
I want to stop them, but
I am hollow and afraid

I pretend I am fine, but
I feel very far from fine
I run my fingers through my hair
I fear judgement, everywhere
I cry inside, but only there, for
I am hollow and afraid

I know they say "life is a wonder"
I say life is a four-letter word
I dream of death, desolation, disaster
I just want it all to end, because
I am so hollow and so afraid

That I'm cute
Beautiful
Pretty

And I tell them that
It's okay that I'm not
Because I know I'm not
But I don't like being lied to

I know I'm not
Because I can't let tears
Drip down my cheeks
As they shimmer in the dim light
Of the movie credits

I sob until
My face is red and damp and puffy
And I'm clinging to your sleeve
And just crying so uncontrollably
That people sitting next to us
In the dark theater
Might glimpse over to see if maybe
I have a reason to cry so hard.

Does shehave cancer?
Is she missing a leg?
Did her crack-addict mother die when she was an infant?
Why is this bratty straight white blonde girl crying while watching Selma/Dallas Buyer's Club/The Help?

I have to brush my hair
Instantly
When I get out of the pool
In the summer
(Hopping from foot to foot of course
Because the sun has baked the concrete)
Because if I don't
It becomes a half-curly knotted mess.

And if I don't braid it directly after that
Then it dries
In resemblance to a Yield Sign
In a somewhat triangular form

And I'm chubby.
Not fat. It would be better if I were fat.
If I were fat then things would be
Proportionalish
But instead I'm just
A 5'2 and 3/4" girl
With DDs that no one wants
Because "***** don't count when you're chubby"
And baby fat that lounges on my stomach
No matter how many kilometers I row.

My fingers are too small for my hands.
My glasses make my eyes look huge.
My lips are forever chapped.
My cheeks are overly red.
My eyes are too dark to be pretty
And I know it.
I know all of it.

I've lived in my body for longer than you have.
So don't lie to me.
Don't tell me that I'm cute
Beautiful
Or god forbid pretty
Because I really
Really
Hate being lied to.