I do love life.
I believe there are so many beautiful things out there.
Like dust in the sunlight,
wildflowers by the sidewalk
or that boy with the dark hair on the train, yesterday.
Children laughing,
people holding doors for others,
saturday mornings.
Life is beautiful.
I just wish
that I
was one of those beautiful things.

I sit in the back of the classroom
by myself
the teacher doesn't remember my name
im the quiet girl people only seem to notice every now and then
i watch the other girls talk about the upcoming weekend
i'm nothing special
im not beautiful
i'm not gifted
i bet God doesn't even know my name
but i'm writing this on this desk so someone knows that i existed.

You said you wouldn't do this to yourself again.
"Be strong," you whisper.
Be strong. But how can you?
Tear by tear you get weaker.
Your scars have healed but here we are again, ready to form new scars.
A new scar for that comment that boy said.
A new scar for that friend that betrayed you.
A new scar for every word you swallow.
Here we are again.
A scene that isn't new to you.
A feeling you know too well.
Here we are again.
You break.
And while your family is asleep, you go back to your old ways.
Here we are again.

You know all the names of the members to your favorite band or how much pimples ****.
You know that John is the cutest guy in school and that you are not the prettiest girl.
You know that your cousin Susie is a snob and that you want to be a journalist when you grow up.
I guess you don't know much at fifteen.
You don't know how bad things are.
You don't know that your best friend has scars on her right thigh.
You don't know that Annie in 3rd period has depression.
You don't know that your uncle is drinking his problems away.
You don't know how hard it is to survive.
You don't know that your mom can't sleep.
You don't know that your dad is trying so hard.
You still won't know at sixteen or seventeen or eighteen but someday you will.
Someday you'll know how bad things are.
But for now, I guess you don't know much at fifteen.