Are You Okay?

Walking around, a smile on my face.
A skip in my step, a laugh escapes my lips.
I'm so happy, with who I am and life as I know it.

Lie.

Behind the walls, I bend my torso forward.
Nearly throw it to the ground.
And sob, as if I am about to spew my guts out.

I take a break when I'm done.
Or nearly done.
And look into the mirror at the person I despise to be.

Watery, red-rimmed eyes.
Puffy pink nose.
Trembling lip.

It's pathetic.
You're pathetic.

I've been called a slut.
A bitch.
A fake.
A poser.
An attention-whore.
Attention-starved.

I've been told by three different people,
That I should kill myself.

"No one will miss you."
"You're worthless."

Are you okay? They ask.
Ask the slits on my hip.