Here’s the story
of five kids.
Two girls
and one boy.
And the only one
who will speak the truth.

Sadly, this is about me.
The one who speaks the truth.
A short-haired, short-figured girl
who has nothing to lose.
Maybe this should’ve been last,
but that’s where the best is.

Friends say I need to eat.
Friends say I need a hug.
Friends say I need to stop.
Friends say I’m too loud.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe I do need to stop.

I try to think that people care.
I try to make them believe that I care.
But when you hurt yourself,
doubt yourself,
or starve yourself,
It just makes me want to stop.

Everybody knows that I’m here for them.
The fifth,
the fourth,
the third,
the first.
But who’s there when I need to cry?

I try my best,
I really do.
But the only things you say are either
“Lizzie no”
Or
“Lizzie stop”

My only sense of help
Is the Internet and myself.
I promise I’ll be fine, my friends!
I love me, okay?
Why do you think I’m always up?
Why do you think I never have anything to say?

I swear I will eat.
I swear I will get a hug.
I swear I will stop.
I swear I will be quieter.
I swear I will stop hitting myself.
I swear I will respect myself more.
I swear I will protect you with everything I have.
I swear I will better myself for you.
I swear I will help you through this.
I swear I will listen to your problems.
I swear I will prove to you, once and for all, that I love you.
I swear I will not let anyone else fall because of me.

Are these promises to my friends...




or to myself?