Love.
It's a four letter word,
With about 10 billion different meanings,
But for me,
You wouldn't even begin to comprehend my feelings,
You wouldn't physically understand what I go through,
Every time I want to say I love you,
Sure we say it because we're friends,
But the second I say it for more than that,
That is the second our story ends,
I can't exactly explain the feelings,
I start shaking,
My heart begins palpating,
I can't stop thinking about you,
You're on my mind when I wake up and the moment I go to bed,
You've helped me through my worst times,
Without you, I might actually be dead,
You've seen me at my worst,
You've seen me at my best,
I guess you could say you've seen more than the rest,
The ugly,
The beautiful,
And everything in between,
I love you more than the world, space, and intergalactic time,
I wish I could call you mine,
But we're friends.
And I'm happy with that,
Don't want to disrupt it or disturb it,
You're happy,
You don't see me as more than a friend,
So while I love you,
We can't be lovers, romantics, two stupid kids in love,
I guess we'll just be buddies, pals, partners in crime,
Til' the end.
Right?

I tried to make it easy for myself. To give it up. I used to sit around pick at my food, and wonder how many pounds I would need to lose. I had a goal set in my mind. I wasn't ready to stop. It was becoming my time. All the constant compliments on my weight, didn't care if I saw the light of day, as long I was skinny, I was happy. I was pretty.


Now the world's a pretty ****** up place. But when you have BDD you think you're a disgrace. I pushed and pulled and tried to mold my body, into something I wasn't. That's not even the ****** part. I used to take the pills, chug the water. Was ashamed to call myself my parent's daughter. I was praying for something to come. And while it seems real dumb because according to you I'm pretty, I don't see what you see. Me calling myself fat wasn't for attention. It was a call for help. I just wanted to mention that starving yourself won't get the job done, and if you think it will, it'll harm you a ton. So please stay beautiful the way you are. And don't lose that precious beat in your heart. You're the only you there'll ever be. I love you for you. I just don't love me for me.

Why am I not good enough for you?
You don't know my life story.
My upbringings.
My parents.
You don't know the Mother that raised me.
The mother who taught me how to be a decent human being.
The same Mother who's making 81 cents to your dollar.
Why?
Because of what's between her legs.
Why am I not good enough for you?
Maybe its the way I dress.
I'm modest.
I was taught the difference between lingerie and clothing.
I know what is appropriate.
I'm comfortable with myself.
Why do you have to degrade me?
For something as stupid as the genitalia between my thighs.
You discriminate and degrade people.
You don't see us saying, 'We're so sorry, but we regret to inform you, America, simply won't allow a Cheeto to be our PRESIDENT.'
You say that just because of someone's sexuality or gender, they CANNOT join the military.
Well, I don't know about the rest of America, but if someone is willing to fight for our country, that's more honor than anything.
Not like you're volunteering your life to fight for our once, accepting and loving country.
America the free.
Home of the brave.
A dream to most people.
It isn't as great as it seems.
If anything, it shouldn't be a dream to people.
It should be a nightmare.
A nightmare.
Why am I not good enough for you?
Is it because my parents taught me to love whoever I want?
Do you want to judge me for being an open person?
Are you going to degrade me for saying I love both girls and boys equally?
Do you know why?
Because a person...
Is a person.
Maybe my mind isn't as contorted as yours.
Maybe some therapy or medication can help alleviate my sins.
Maybe instead of judging majority of the country, you should judge yourself.
Maybe you should realize, you aren't as good as you think you are.
I'm not a nobel peace prize winner, but I can tell you how to resolve some of our country's problems.
Put a little love in your heart.
Love for all the people.
Love for those who's skin isn't as white as yours.
Love for those who believe love is love.
Love for the people who want to fight for our country.
Love for all those people who aren't good enough.
So I ask of you one more time.
If I am good enough for everyone around me...
Why am I not good enough for you?
#ProtectallLGBT

Is there something wrong with you?
Are you okay?
What happened to you, Lina?
You seem depressed.
Where is your strength and determination?
Why do you sleep so much?
Get up and do some work.
I work several hours a day.
You don't see me complaining.
I feel perfectly fine. Perfect.
Maybe you should try to be too.
Be perfect, Lina.
Be perfect, just like me.
Stop wearing that dark eye makeup, and listening to that horrid music.
You only get one shot at life.
You need to make the most of it.
Stop lying around and wasting your days away.
You aren't gonna get anywhere.
Stop devoting yourself to those stories, music, and those god ****** angst poems.
Stop spending your time writing that *******, in a world where people that get degrees, succeed.
And stop picking at your lips and chewing your nails.
It's disgusting.
I don't care if you think it helps or calms you down.
It looks disgusting.
You're ruining your lips like you're ruining your life.
My lips are perfect.
Smooth and glossy, like the hair that sits upon my perfect head.
Why are you so far down?
You need to be up here.
Maybe listening is some kind of crime to you.
Otherwise, you would have listened to the billionth time I told you to stop picking at your lips!
Stop picking your lips like some kind of garbage.
You cannot be garbage.
You have to be perfect.
Be perfect. Just like me.
Stop telling me how you feel.
Because you need to be perfect.
Pay attention.
Stop daydreaming and staring up at the sky.
Like the clouds are supposed to give you all of your life's answers.
Because it won't.
Because your life is a mess, just like your lips.
Cracked and broken.
****** and red.
Stop writing Lina.
Stop wasting your life away.
No, I don't hate you.
No, I'm not mad at you.
I'm just trying to help you.
Trying to set you up for a bright future.
Trying to let you be successful.
You have to let me love you so you can be perfect.
Perfect.
Just like me.

It's before first-period...
My teachers see me walking down the hallway and rudely gawk at my body as if it's some sort of disgrace.
Flash forward...
My teacher calls the assistant principal down to 'approve' my clothes.
I'm sent to the office to find out my mother was on her way.
The same mother who has to work every day to make a living, and to pay for my clothes.
The same mother who's making eighty-one cents to my principal's dollar.
The same mother who taught me to love my body and how to look appropriate.
The same mother who approved and complimented me, only an hour before, earlier that morning.
The bell for the second period rings.
I'm still sitting in the office.
Because wasting my time over what I'm wearing is more important than my education. Right?
I can hear the whispers of my degrading school's staff.
A few higher established adults to an 'outfit check'.
Quickly after, the assistant called my name.
I gulped down my fear and anxiety, as I stood up.
Then I'm sent into a room.
The dullest, dark, and grayest room I have ever entered.
"Hello Lina, we're gathered here to talk about your outfit today."
A tee shirt dress with shorts underneath.
It reminded me of when I was in the fifth grade.
Girls were told that we needed to cover ourselves up because boys thought about our bodies in a ****** manner, and if we dressed a certain way and something happened, it was our fault.
It's getting close to the third period when my mother arrives.
After the constant duel to what seemed, death, with words, I got to go.
I didn't have to change this time.
I was lucky.
Lucky that a teacher came to my defense along with my mother, and told them my outfit was fine, and I couldn't help that I was a curvier girl.
Instead of focusing on what girls are wearing, maybe we should tell boys to keep their hands to themselves and grow up.
Because that's what the girls have to learn from an early age.
Our bodies shouldn't be over sexualized for what's covering them.
Girls are **** shamed and dress coded everywhere because of what we wear.
What if we focused on teaching students to be mature young adults, rather than disgusting pigs who apparently can't handle a girl who shows her shoulders?
Let's all obsess over real world problems.
Not what someone wears, or if it's distracting to boys.
Just when someone starts having confidence (which is a victory in itself), we're torn down based off of the clothes we put on our bodies.
Girls are taught that it's our fault.
Boys can just open and claim your body, like some kind of book.
Even when the only word printed is NO.
We struggle in our bodies from such a young age.
Instead of worrying about a girl's apparel, let's worry about the men who need to learn to control themselves.

No one really knows what love is.
According to Shakespeare, love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.
When you think about that, it's the words a true romantic, right?
But, maybe instead of trying to rush into love so quickly, we should take the time to enjoy life.
Love yourself, before someone loves you.
Maybe instead of trying to find someone to make us happy, we should find happiness within ourselves.
That's the key to love and happiness itself.
Take the time to love yourself first.
Take time to find things in life you love.
Love.
The way leaves complete the look of a crisp autumn day.
The days where you can just lounge around and relax.
That smell of freshly brewed coffee.
It's the little things that we should love more, but we take for granted.
The sooner people learn to love things other than a significant other, that we're taught we ABSOLUTELY need, we might find out what love actually is.
You shouldn't have to be validated be a specific person in order to say you 'love'.
Whether it be something or someone, if you love something, it's love.
No one can change that.
Because love is one of the most confusing feelings a person can have, yet we choose to let it take control of our life.
If you're going to love, let it be something worth your while.
"Love is old.
Love is new.
Love is all.
Love is you." - The Beatles

I don't think you understand what I went through.
Every time I said I loved you.
I wanted to say I didn't.
But I was scared.
Scared you would hurt me, like the night of our 2nd date.
Yes.
The second date.
Now I'm no Casanova, what you did wasn't romantic.
You hurt me.
You broke me.
You injured me.
Both mentally and physically.
Yet, no matter how hard I try to forget, I can't.
You can always forgive but forgetting isn't that easy.
What you did was wrong.
WRONG.
I still have no clue why you did it.
Why your eyes glimmered at me.
Why you smiled.
Maybe it was that stupid smile.
Because I knew from the first time I saw it, you were trouble.
I guess I liked that.
After a while I thought you actually cared.
Boy, was I wrong.
You lied to me.
Said you were joking around.
It was just for fun.
Nothing bad would happen.
Well, that was WRONG.
Everything about you is wrong.
I don't know how else to put it.
Now I'm no mathematical genius, but there's about 7 billion people on the planet.
You had the audacity to break at least one.
If not more.
And while I'm no longer important to you.
You still play a role in my life.
You still are in the back of my mind.
Contradicting everything I do.
Despite the fact I want to forget you.
Why?
Because what you did was wrong.
I'm still not over it.
No matter how hard I try.
I've moved on to something better.
I'm finally with a boy I'm crazy about.
I love him more than you'll ever understand.
So please.
Just leave.
For the first time I'm not scared to say it.
I don't love you.