I am not perfect.


I know that I am not perfect.


I know I should do this.

I know I should do that.

I know I should be this.

I know I should be that.

I know.

I know.



And trust me,

I don’t need reminders.

I know this very fact every place I go.

It tugs on me.

It drags me back.

It pulls on my hair and hangs from my shoulders.

It whispers in my very ears

Every single

Imperfection there is to my body.

To my soul.

To my life.


Please let me be free of your whispers.

My mind’s tearing at its seams.

I know that I may seem tough.

But surely your parents have told you,

“Children, never judge a book by its cover.”

Because children, people are rarely what they seem.


Nothing is ever what it seems.


They tell me not to fake a smile.

But how can I not?

When I know people will be tired of me the very moment I decide to say

“I am in pain.”


And not that easy pain.


 Not that physical pain.

I am talking about that deep pain.

The one that eats your insides

And chews on your brain until the point you

Beg for it to STOP.


                                                    You beg

and you beg

                                           and you beg.


But it doesn’t listen.

It doesn’t stop.

It doesn’t listen to your cries.


So again I fix that fake smile on my face,

And I hope that nobody sees through it.

Because the moment they do…

That will be the exact moment I break.

No matter how hard I might try not to,

I will break.


Into a million little pieces,

Never to be heard of again.


Yet I will still wear that petty little smile.

Living in fear of that exact moment.

Because I remind myself,

“Nobody cares about me.”


I remind myself that nobody wants to listen to me.

That nobody wants to listen to my problems.

That nobody listens to my cries.

That nobody listens.


And yet, they have the audacity

To say what’s wrong with me.

They have the audacity,

To say what I should be.

To say what I should do.

And I repeat that I know.

I know.

I know.


I know that I am not perfect.


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