I am that girl who, loves the smell of gasoline, hate hypocrites, and sometimes talk to much Even though I think I'm not talking enough but then someone tells me to slow down or shut up and now I just realized I'm talking to much.
I am that girl who, is constantly looking over my shoulder looking for those who attack me on the daily.
I sit in my closet and cry until I feel my body falling to pieces, wretched from my lips are the cries of despair and pain that I hold back.
However I am not this girl:
The girl who is okay with the bullying,
The girl who is okay with the abuse,
The girl who is okay with the rape,
The girl who is okay with not being allowed to feel comfortable in her own sexuality,
The girl who okay with not having a voice.
I am not that girl.
Never was, never will be,
I am not okay with these things.
Please do not treat me with kid gloves for yes I am as fragile as a china doll and if you drop me I might break but I will look pretty and smile through the tears.
Sometimes I feel like I haven't Breathed.
Like its been a decade since I last went to sleep.
So no I'm not all smiles, I'm not straight, and I'm definitely not okay but that is me.
That's How I complicatedly describe me.
And maybe its the end of me.
The me behind the mask, behind the band-aids, holding together the pieces.