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 ****,
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.