You know that the world seems so nice and the people seem to treat you so well and they all want to be your friend
That is until you let a little bit of your crazy show then they tell you how much of a freak you are and how your better off dead or how you don’t matter and that your worthless and stupid
Then when you end up trying to **** yourself or they accidentally see the bandages on your wrists or they by chance notice that your wearing a hoodie in a hundred degree heat
They do one of two options
1 they try to be your friend out of pity or
2 they throw you to the ground and bust your lip open then tell you ten times more often that your a freak and a thousand times more often that that overdose you tried last summer or those times you ran away from home and was so ******* to close to either walking into traffic or jumping of a cliff should’ve worked
To be honest where I come from it’s usually the latter

And quite frankly the more times they tell me all of this it makes it feel worse than death and it gets me thinking that those suicide attempts should’ve worked too

I walk the halls,
Watching her flowing hair,
Golden in the perfect lighting,
Her hips moving from side to side,
Like Newton's cradle,
Left,
Right,
Left,
Right.

I envy her perfectly highlighted face,
And her winged liner,
That's as sharp as her heels,
Clicking along the wooden boards,
Hypnotizing everyone and anyone,
Including me.

Me,
The girl that walks alone,
To and from class,
The girl that wears tattered jeans,
And stained shirts,
The girl that drops her books,
And gets bullied on countless occasions,
The girl that wishes that she was just like her,
Just like this girl that walks the halls.

Why am I not good enough?
And I'm not talking about others' opinions,
I'm talking about my own,
My self-image,
My self-worth,
My self-confidence,
Why am I not good enough?

Little do I know,
As I walk the halls,
That this girl,
This perfect image of a woman,
Doesn't want to be that way anymore,
While I would **** for that,
She would simply throw it away,
If it were that easy.

The popularity,
The attention,
The friends,
She'd be rid of it in a heartbeat,
If it were up to her.

But I still believe that I'm not good enough,
That I need a face of makeup,
Heels that are too tall to balance on,
An outfit to make me comfortable with my body,
Just to make me feel like I'm worth something,
Like I really am good enough.

So, I watch this girl,
And I envy her,
And she envies me,
As we walk the halls.

My body is a cage.
This broken mortal frame
Grasps onto air and lies
As it falls and fails to try.
I morph its ugly worthlessness
With personality and fitness
To break my ribs and then to
Cause fat to redistribute.
My body is a cage,
And its broken, warped frame
Will never, ever cease to be
Something that disgusts me.

My mom always tells me that being positivity is a choice
But it’s not like I get up in the morning and want to hate myself
No one wants to wake up and immediately think of death
No one wants to go through the day with barely enough motivation to stand
No one wants to get home from school and cry for hours
It’s not like I want to be up all night having flashbacks and anxiety attacks
But guess what mom?
That just how my life is!
And there’s nothing you can do to help me
I’m a lost cause
So just let me give up
Please
Just please

I have no clue what to do anymore. Cause I have lost everybody and they don't want to hear what I have to say and that does hurt.

I guess I have no purpose anymore and I care about everyone but I don't think they do, so yeah this my life and I am living it. although I wish I had just one person to talk to but I
have lost all of that and I can't see my life doing any better than it is now.

Pain wracks my fragile bones.
Everything hurts me,
So please, please don't
Come close or touch me.

I can't look at my body
Because it isn't what I want.
I know it's selfish, you see,
But it's a paper without a font.

My skin is a tapestry of
Beauty and pretty and all
In the perfect girl you'd love,
But guys: absolutely appalled.

Nothing matched on me-
I'm the missing left sock,
My bones' rattle is all I'll be
Until I take the final walk.

-----------------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------
Dear Diary,

I am a ghost. I don't know how long I've been this way, but It's my reality.

I've smiled with people who can't see me. I've laughed and made conversation with shadows. Sometimes you forget that you can't be seen...or heard...or even thought of.

I like to watch people live -- questioning the actions and thoughts they feel. Oh, yeah, I can hear their thoughts. Vile and sweet...mixed into a bowl like candied poison.

Sometimes I get lonely. It can get bad...like...really bad. Have you ever wondered why ghosts get so aggressive?... You probably know them as poltergeists. That's when we get so tired of being alone...something comes over us...

It's not like we see each other...no...ghosts are solemnly solitary, unfortunately.

So...yes, there you have it...something I wanted to get off of my chest -- the nonexistent one.

I am an utterly, unfortunate, miserable, somber, quiet, insane, and hurt Ghost.


You're welcome.