I don’t let anyone know what I’m really thinking
The whispers in my head are only for me
They say things that I’d rather not admit
They hurt me in more than one way.

The whispers are cruel and soft
They chip away at my self-esteem
They voice all of my concerns, they tear me apart by the seams
But no one can know, not anyone at all
You’d probably put me in a straight jacket
For the things they say to me.

They understand me like only I could
They know everything behind what I do
They sound like me—
But the things they say? I wish I didn’t agree.
They’re so intrinsically me.
I despise them, but I know they’re right.

“I’m unloved.”
“No one thinks I’m attractive. I disappear among all of the others in the room.”
“They don’t really like me.”
”I’m so stupid, my friends don’t care for me as much as I do for them.”

If only I could transfer a tiny percent of my love for my friends to myself,
I think I would be fine.
I wish I didn’t hate myself
But it’s such a thin line
In a way, I’m a blade runner
In that I walk the edge of my sanity on a day to day basis.

I wish I didn’t listen to the whispers.
I wish everyone knew I’m not fine.
But I don’t want your sympathy, no, not that.
I just want you to understand.
The whispers at night when I’m all alone
The voices that tell me I should just be a rotting pile of bones
All I want is to silence them,
But to do that, I would have to cease existing.

I’m tired of wanting to die
I’m tired of these endless whispers telling me I’m not enough
I’m tired of the girl that sounds like me
I just want to feel happy for once in my life
I’m tired of pretending to be fine when I’m not
I just want to be.