Mom says that I'm a pretty girl in need to be dressed up in dresses.
That I should like pretty pink princesses.
But I only sink more and more into the depressants.

i cant explain that homophobia is ripping holes through my sweaters and clothes and i am shivering.

the whistling wind whispering in my ear keeps telling me that my love is not authentic.
no, my sexuality is not your aesthetic.

but the whispering starts roaring.
the swarming hatred speeches of rain starts pouring from clouds of ignorance.

venomous lightning that will soon strike down.
and when it does, the venom will soon take over my body.
and shatter my heart.

cause my umbrella cannot contain this bad weather.

Why should I let a single letter, number, or percentage define how intelligent I really am?

Take those fingers out of your mouth
Stop counting every calorie
You are not a mathematician


Because you always hated math