Okay, let me start with my opening phrase:

 

Keep your mind open to what I am about to say.

 

Why? Because deep down inside we're different.

Deep down inside we are evil.

Deep down inside, we can be cruel. Our words can be the tool to break another's spirit. Make them feel like falling off a cliff. Words are powerful, more than we realize, so open your eyes and focus your mind on the words that I type to you.

 

These words that are meant for you.

 

It's 7 in the morning. Get up.

Go to school.

So boring... Right?

Then the fight begins when eight o'clock strikes on the clock that ticks inside your mind as you play your little games of doubt and torment on whether or not getting up was worth it.

 

Are you ready?

 

Keep breathing steady as you walk through those doors; the doors that lead you inside the lion's den.

The first thing you do? Look for a friend.

 

You search and you see people pointing and laughing... at who?

At you?

Doesn't matter, that's what you think as you walk past them in the hallways feeling yourself shrink at the stares you feel on you when they don't really SEE you.

 

Wound number one.

 

The hour isn't done and you feel like running away.

Escape into the safety of your quiet little world where no one judges you.

Where you're not afraid to actually BE you.

 

The real you.

 

Because inside the den you are the scared little hare that keeps running for its life when the lions are full. You walk around, refusing the fact that someone may actually think you're cool.

 

It's 8:19, you hear the bell ring and start heading to class when a random girl pulls you aside to ask...

 

"Why are you so afraid?"

 

That girl is me.

 

The quiet one with her little bubble, the one people don't know and think is trouble.  I know that's what people may say, the group I hang out with may not seem okay... To them.

They don't even know who these people really are, all they see are Somalis and an Asian who 

doesn't seem interested in associating with the Caucasian portion of the student population.

 

Does that matter?

 

Is that supposed to matter?

 

Does fitting in have to be hanging out with the majority?

Does being flawless mean spending hours covering your sleepless face in makeup?

 

Wake up.

 

The bell rings, 8:25. Class is in session so let me teach you a lesson.

Take my life into perspective and see how many things I do that don't seem to fit into this well-crafted high school hierarchy consisting of the athletes and blondies at the top and us rest left to determine our standing somewhere in the system.

Do you think the top is flawless?

Have you looked at their faces and heard their words?

How they put everyone down, mostly the nerds?

 

Were you a victim?

 

You don't have to be one. 

 

Just say, "I'm done" and walk out into the sun and feel the weight of the world fall off of your shoulders.

No one person should have to carry a boulder of worries and doubt, of feeling left out of the society we have created in the spaces of learning, a space where we are supposed to be free of the negativity that somehow lingers on our tongues and in the hallways.

 

I see you looking both ways as you walk out of a room.

I see you look both ways after every word you say.

 

You're scared, I see that.

You're scared, I know. But you don't have to willingly put yourself under their control. 

 

To me you are flawless. And in your eyes, I may be so too.

 

But here's the truth.

I'm not the kindest person, the funniest, the coolest or the smartest.

 

But I'll tell you WHO I am.

 

I am a girl who is hurt inside the darkness I hide behind my mask of a smile. I am a girl who gets angry when I see someone put another down. Is it necessary to make people frown? 

 

Despite what you may think, flawlessness is not a perfect thing.

It's being confident in what you do, not to let the onlookers choose if your moves make you or break you in this teenage world full of hate just for the sake of boosting the esteems of those who deem themselves worthy of being on top.

 

One is a lonely number.

 

Don’t slumber and hide the scars they give you. Let them know, let the scars show the proof that you were able to overcome the trials and still come out the victor. Let them bicker about the way they draw black lines on their face in an attempt to hide the ugliness that they say doesn’t match up to lace.

 

"Flawless" just has a nice ring but you are strong enough to live without the need to latch onto this word to breathe.

 

But if you still do, then let me tell you.

 

You are flawless for being you.