when someone tells me im pretty
or that im beautiful
or that they wish they had my brain
or they wish they could be me
all i can think
is how they’re lying

because who wants to have my fat stomach
or my disgusting thighs
or my ugly face
or my self-destructive mind
or my suicidal thoughts
or my depression

they’re probably trying to be nice
when they say they want to look like me
but they probably mean it
when they say they want my brain, my mind
because they don’t know what goes on up there
how i hate myself
how i am disgusted with myself
how i wish i didn’t wake up
how i wish were dead

but then again
how could they know
when i don’t tell them
or when they don’t ask