I used to think I would never do the things I've done.
But growing up changes more than you used to think.
Almost never for the better, because what you think might be better,
might be worse in the end.
There's the confusion of growing up-
Things can always be twisted around,
around your neck and around your heart.
Even around your hope,
the very essence keeping you alive,
can be broken and bruised,
tried and diminished.
It's wings get caught in the rain.
As it falls you wish you would hit ground already.
This free-fall of numbness is to unbearable.

I know things change,
and almost never for the better.
Here's a body you didn't get to pick,
but don't worry you will be judged anyways.
Here's a few friends that you think could never hurt you.
Maybe even a person who captured your eyes and then your heart,
and if you are one of those lucky few, captured your soul.
They never last as long as you think.
Here's you picking up the broken pieces of a once lovely life.
Pick up the pieces of the body you despise, the body you scarred, the body you pumped venom into.
Pick up the pieces of the friendships and loved ones who are now long gone-
if you're quick you could catch their sent on the last breeze.

You could be lucky and have someone there who can help you sweep up your now dusty soul.
Things change and not always for the better.
Who would have thought your heart would have hardened at such a young age.
Not even past your first graduation and you've experienced things too lofty for small shoulders to carry.
Nothing seems to phase you anymore.
Stories that would have been unspeakable don't dent the hard surface you've erected for yourself.
But don't you know how hard that is for those who want to care?
Someday a person will want to hold you.
They will want to help you sweep up that dusty soul of yours.
That person might help heal the wounds you picked up through the years.
How hard will you make it for them?
How hard will you push away?
Run away?
Lie?
Lie to yourself.

It's easier-
yes, that's it.
It's easier without love.
Without emotions.
Feelings are troublesome things.
They distort and disgust.
They burden and batter.
No, feelings are for children.
Us, those with the hard hearts,
we know the truth.
Life.
Is.
So.
Much.
More.
Fun.
Without.
Emotions.
Turn it off.
Turn them off.
Love is a notion in the back of your head.
Another conspiracy you hear during those dodgy school hours.

I know that you will want to hide.
Behind your hair or your makeup,
behind outrageous clothes or dull ones,
behind shyness or sarcasm.
You'll hide the scars,
because you believe no one could ever love someone so broken-
so twisted.
The scars, I promise there will be too many.
You won't want to be scarred or broken.
You'll hate yourself for it everyday.
How are you the weak one?
Why do you have to be the ugly one?
The dull one?
The unintelligent one?
The crazy, worthless one?
Why why why do you have to feel your scars and broken limbs?
On cold nights why is it you who has to pick up the knife,
or, if you are stronger than you think (and I guarantee you are), put it back?
Why do you have to drag your body place after place that gives you chills or sickness?
Why are we the different ones?

I want to be one of the other ones.
The ones who don't see the scars that she acquired through the years of tear-stained nights
or wounds that won't stay closed (some just never heal, you know?)
I want to be that girl because I am so **** tired of the life I am living now.