to the man who said "who would want to work at a place like this":

I understand working part time at a frozen yogurt store is not ideal to you. Surely it does not measure up to your job. However, it is not your job; it is mine. And you know what?

I relish my job.

I enjoy opening a yogurt store in the morning and staying here throughout the afternoon. (The AC on the hot summer days is a welcome bonus). I enjoy interacting with my regular customers and meeting the new ones that come in. I enjoy calling out 'hello' and 'have a nice day' every time the door opens and the bell goes off. I enjoy being able to work hard and serve the people who come in. I enjoy being able to work on homework during the slow parts of the day.

There are struggles that come with every job, such as messes made without a second thought to apologize, children occasionally throwing a tantrum, or customers who are unhappy with something I cannot control.

It may not be ideal to you. You may wonder why I work in a place like this.

To me, there is no other place I'd rather be.

From the girl behind the counter

P.S: the tips are pretty nice too

You know what I want to do right now? I want to cry and scream and do something, anything. Anything but think about the veins and blood beneath my skin, my heart pumping that oh so precious blood all over my body, the blood that's now filled with adrenaline at those thoughts. I'm sure the coffee on an empty stomach and the lack of sleep isn't helping. I'm shaking now. Is it from the coffee or the thoughts, from the want? My stomach has dropped now and I feel sick. Again, I don't know why it's doing that. I think it's from the thoughts, that thought of the bright red against the pale white. That's an image I can't get out of my head. My god, I don't know that to do. I could go hide away and cut in a spot no one will ever see. It doesn't have to be the wrist to make it bleed. Yet, I have to smile and pretend that I'm not shaking, that I'm not about to break down, that the tears are pricking at my eyes, that I can think of at least five objects I can use to hurt myself. I have to continue to fake it. I have to be okay. I have to be strong, even though I'm not strong at all. I still want to cut. That's going to be a thought in the back of my mind all day, even though I took my 'happy' pills, even though I'm faking that I'm okay. I'm not okay. I can admit that, only to myself. I can't admit that to the world. I will put on a smile. I will hide the shaking. I will hide the thoughts. I will hide the hurt. I will carry on. I will be okay.

as we approach the summer,
as the sun comes out,
as everything warms,
we hear those two words
that we all dread:
'bikini body'
we go to the gym
we eat healthy
for what?
being able to wear
two inches of clothing.
no more for me
i look good
i feel good
all throughout the year
i refuse to give in
i refuse to feel ashamed
for what?
for not looking
like a model?
let me say this
i look like me
that is enough

i didn't want to tell people that there was something wrong. i thought it was all in my head; i thought i would be told it was all in my head. turns out, it wasn't. i was depressed. i am depressed, technically. you wouldn't expect that, just looking at me. i tried to hide it as much as possible. now, i can't hide it. so i'm going to be open and say it, not to seek attention and not to cause harm. i am depressed and i am getting help. i am getting better. my mum even noticed. "it's nice to have our daughter back. you have that spark of life again."

i didn't want to accept it
i'd done research
i knew what it was
i just didn't want to admit it
now i know
i've been diagnosed
now i have to accept it
three simple words
I. AM. DEPRESSED.