My voice,
It cannot be silenced
I will write,
I will sing,
I will do anything to set me apart
From what I'm "Supposed to be"
Because normal is boring.
I don't want to be,
I refuse to be another face in the crowd,
I want to touch people with my actions,
With my words.
When I die
I don't want to be 6 feet under ground
With a face nobody will remember
And no difference made.

You see,
I am an artist

I draw with silver
But it comes out red

Beauty.
The standard goal.
Society kills me.
They tell you to “be yourself, you’re beautiful”
Judge you for it,
Then encourage you to do it again.
Who are they to decide?
In fact, who decided the status quo,
What determines true beauty?
They say everyone’s beautiful in their own way,
But that’s just the appetizer.
The main course is the “fact” that everyone’s different,.
And in order to achieve the standard level of “perfect”,
“Buy this item! It’ll make you more perfect, I swear!”
“Wear these clothes, it’ll complement the parts of your body we’ve defined as
‘Attractive’!”
“Do these workouts, it’ll give you a flatter stomach, tighter abs, a sexier beach body!”
The fact that they took our weak spot,
Perfection
And dangled the idea,
The possibility in front of us
To sell their products
To keep us coming back, to make money
Because, let’s be real, money’s everything.
They convince us that we can achieve something that doesn't exist,
But we want it to,
We hope for it,
Because….what?
Looks are everything?
No.
In 80 years, we’ll all look old and weird, so what’s the point?
Look good everyday,
Hope someone finds you attractive,
Potentially fall in “love” with somebody who only desires your looks?
If that’s your goal, ***, you've got your priorities mixed up
Life’s not gonna care whether you’re
Attractive,
Ugly,
Skinny,
Thick,
Short,
Tall,
Smart,
Stupi­d,
Or the greatest person alive.
It’s gonna knock you down no matter what,
And in 120 years, we’ll all be dead anyway.
Why waste your time hoping to accomplish a false reality,
So you can live your years in luxury,
Rather than just being thankful and happy?
Don’t spend your time trying to get to what you don’t even want,
But have been programmed to accept.
Re-program yourself.
***** the system.

I'm not dead
                                                                                                   But I'm not alive
I'm not living
                                                                                    I'm just trying to survive
We're all playing the same game
                                                                                              Just different levels
We're all in the same hell
                                                                                            Just different devils

To love and to be in love are very different.

For starters, I love you.
And every time I look at you
I ask myself how I got so lucky
I know I’m not perfect
I know I’m not much
And every time we speak I speak my thoughts backwards
My tongue ties,
Twisting, turning, tangling itself into a knot,
I can no longer speak.
I feel the need to explain myself
I answer the questions I convince myself you’re sure to be asking,
But are too nice to plainly ask
Like, “What’s wrong with you?”
I’m hyper focused on every flaw,
I put myself under a microscope.
Even now
I’m wondering if my tone of voice is acceptable
Maybe I should try speaking with more passion
Or less?
I’m hyper focused on my hair, is it okay?
My clothes, are they okay?
My personality, is it enough to keep you near when the days pass and my looks fade?
Or when I’m in the worst condition, will you stay?
Because truth be told I love you
And you speak you love me too,
But I can’t see how anyone could love me when I don’t love myself
How anyone could find perfection in such an imperfect being
Find beauty in someone like me
I question my self-worth.
But you already knew that,
And that’s one of the problems,
I don’t think I could ever leave someone who knows me so well
But maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize who I really am
That’s why I was so hesitant to get close to you
Because your re-assurance seems all to genuine
And I’m not ready to let go of my insecurities, don’t you see?
My sadness, it’s a part of me
It defines me
It defies me
It holds me back
But when all I’ve known is darkness and hurt
And you come in with the idea that it’ll get better
I never even imagined that concept.
And to be honest, It’s hard to believe someone like you can even dream of someone like me
And I’m sorry that I’m only me,
You deserve more
But all I have is my love
I hope it’s enough.

I am a hypocrite.
I tell my friends they have to eat,
when I don't.
I tell them not to listen to what others say
when I do.
I tell them they shouldn't cut
when i do
I tell them life is worth living
when I've attempted suicide.
I tell them to be happy
when I'm battling depression.
But regardless,
know I am here
For anyone battling depression
Anyone considering suicide,
Cutting,
Not eating,
Questioning their self worth,
Or maybe just sad.
I am here.