I do not see what you see,

When I look at myself, I still see myself at 13,

Eyeliner thick and black,

Trying so hard to be a part of something,

Drinking at parties,

And trying my hardest to never eat a thing.

Sometimes I’m 16 and dying on the inside,

While I let my friends make me the butt of the joke,

Smoking cigarettes so I can be the rebel,

Desperate for any boy to love me.

Or I’m 17 again,

crying in the bathroom with blood in the sink,

Wishing he knew the pain he caused me,

Wanting to never feel a thing again.

I do whatever he wants because I like the attention,

I self destruct everyday

I add scar after scar to the ever growing collection.


Now I am 21.

I see everything I can be,

A photographer,

A hotshot,

An interpreter,

And many more things.

Sometimes I still want to self destruct.

I still cry when I see 13 year old me

I want to beg her not to torture herself.

But I know I did all of that for a reason.

I’ve built myself into someone I like.

I’m still a little rough around the edges,

But I have friends who love me,

Who push me to be better for myself,

Who make me laugh,

And who will do anything to help me.

And I can smile and know that I am something I never thought I’d be at 13,

I am alive

And I am happy


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