You say you know who I am.
But you don't.
You only know the part of me that I show to you.
You only know the girl
That loves music more than the ordinary person,
That talks to herself,
That doodles flowers on her arms during class,
That buries her face in a book,
That still has all her music downloaded on an Mp3 player,
That sings Taylor Swift songs into her hairbrush.
You don't know the girl
That stays up until 2am sobbing into her pillow,
That feels like she's never enough,
That masks her depression behind fakes smiles and laughter,
That keeps her feelings hidden away,
until they blow up and she cries over a broken shoelace,
That she hopes for the next day to be better than the previous day.
You say you know who I am.
At least you think you do.
I'm sorry. But you don't.
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 9:54 PM UTC
You say you know who I am.
But you don't.
You only know the part of me that I show to you.
You only know the girl
That loves music more than the ordinary person,
That talks to herself,
That doodles flowers on her arms during class,
That buries her face in a book,
That still has all her music downloaded on an Mp3 player,
That sings Taylor Swift songs into her hairbrush.
You don't know the girl
That stays up until 2am sobbing into her pillow,
That feels like she's never enough,
That masks her depression behind fakes smiles and laughter,
That keeps her feelings hidden away,
until they blow up and she cries over a broken shoelace,
That she hopes for the next day to be better than the previous day.
You say you know who I am.
At least you think you do.
I'm sorry. But you don't.
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