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 Jun 2015
Julia Elise
girl in the bathroom paints on her face
covering the spots on her skin
hoping to be like the others
cover it for the mornings
but reminded by the night time
knowingly she changes her looks
unknowingly she changes herself
shimmering colors reflect the lights
perfectly pinched pink cheeks
but her mascara-full lashes smear
and the wings of her eyeliner droop
she knows she'll never be like them
how could she love herself
when everything she sees in the mirror
are the things she hates most
cries as she stares at her reflection
she'll never be like the other girls
with genuine beauty and poise
but the other girls aren't authentic
they paint on their faces
to hide the real girl underneath
 Jun 2015
anonymous999
dear mother,
my mental health is not a spectator sport.

you do not get to tell me "you need to go to school to learn to be a decent person" when i am too depressed to get out of bed and then brag about my ACT score.
it is not your score. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to tell me that you are sending me to a psychologist to "learn how to treat other people" and then ask me if i am okay. i am not okay.

dear mother,
you do not get to watch me hyperventilate under a bed on a school morning and get angry and then brag to your friends about my GPA. it is not your GPA. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to scream at me for "upsetting your household" and order me to take easier classes and then brag to your friends that your daughter took 5 AP classes. yes, that is hard, but you made it harder.

dear mother,
you do not get to scold me when, yes, i stayed up all night but didn't finish my work but then brag to your friends about my success. it is not your success. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to push me down and then comment on how wonderfully i got back up.

you do not get to cheer me in success and boo me in defeat. i am not a sports team, i am your daughter

dear mother,
you are not my mother. you are my fair-weather fan, and yes i am doing well now but i do not have time for autographs.

dear mother,
goodbye.

— The End —