It's not high standards
it's not to look better than other people

it's the insanity of wondering if what you did was enough for approval

living would be a lot easier if I would get out of my own way and enjoy life

enjoy the beauty that comes with the person I should love, but instead hate because they will end up hurting me in the end.

fuming she stomps through the house to the door
the door that lead to safety

the safety in the graves of her thoughts

rolling down that same path she always goes down for escape

the freedom leads her to the thoughts
the ones that burn her skin

she can't do it anymore the pain was overwhelming

she couldn't see through the steam kicking off her skin

so she scratches, she punches, she does it just like her mother

her skin cools her mind escapes her thoughts are empty

only to fill again once she wakes

growing up is realising you were never afraid of physical pain but the anger and betrayal behind their eyes when they approached you.