That little girl.
You should be ashamed of yourself, crying like that.
Becoming that weak insecure little girl once again that we’ve locked away inside and promised we wouldn’t be like that.
Knowing all along deep inside you’re not as strong as you make yourself out to be. But I guess I understand, all that time holding in all those emotions, bottling it in.
Sometimes you can’t control it.
Sometimes you have to let it come out once in awhile or you’ll explode.
I’m expecting you too.
You’re confused, you can’t remember what you did to become the enemy.
You think back, on all the things you’ve said and all the things you thought about in the time.
Sitting there on the soft brown plush couch, secretly wanting anyone to notice you and ask you why you held such a saddened expression.
But once you get the attention your body and emotions are craving for, you push it away and shut yourself down.
The only response leaving your mouth is that it’s ‘nothing’ but things haven’t been right in your mind for so long that it’s no longer ‘nothing’ it’s everything.
But you wear a smile, terrified that someone would discover that horrid secret.
That you are not as strong as you’d like to view yourself as, that you’re still that little girl hiding in the darkened corner of your room, crying like a newborn child.
Feeling as if she is nothing, didn’t you ever tell yourself long ago that this wasn’t what it was suppose to be.
You use to be so happy but the coldness of this world and the ruthless people who inhabit it has infected you.
Forcing you to bring up this steel brick wall that you hide behind, scared and alone.
But it’s okay, because I understand.
It’s the sad story of a girl who just wanted to be looked at by others as worthy.
Deep down asking yourself the same question as well and comtemplating suicide in the process.
But you were to scared, so you turned to the only thing that made you feel alive.
Cutting.
You were scared to go to deep but when you became numb, you no longer cared.
And the deeper you went, the number you became.
Until then, until now.
No matter how many times you deny it, no matter what you go through and want you put yourself through.
You will still be that little girl in the darkened corner, crying your eyes out about how the world is so cold.
Becoming that weak insecure little girl once again that we’ve locked away inside and promised we wouldn’t be like that.
Knowing all along deep inside you’re not as strong as you make yourself out to be. But I guess I understand, all that time holding in all those emotions, bottling it in.
Sometimes you can’t control it.
Sometimes you have to let it come out once in awhile or you’ll explode.
I’m expecting you too.
You’re confused, you can’t remember what you did to become the enemy.
You think back, on all the things you’ve said and all the things you thought about in the time.
Sitting there on the soft brown plush couch, secretly wanting anyone to notice you and ask you why you held such a saddened expression.
But once you get the attention your body and emotions are craving for, you push it away and shut yourself down.
The only response leaving your mouth is that it’s ‘nothing’ but things haven’t been right in your mind for so long that it’s no longer ‘nothing’ it’s everything.
But you wear a smile, terrified that someone would discover that horrid secret.
That you are not as strong as you’d like to view yourself as, that you’re still that little girl hiding in the darkened corner of your room, crying like a newborn child.
Feeling as if she is nothing, didn’t you ever tell yourself long ago that this wasn’t what it was suppose to be.
You use to be so happy but the coldness of this world and the ruthless people who inhabit it has infected you.
Forcing you to bring up this steel brick wall that you hide behind, scared and alone.
But it’s okay, because I understand.
It’s the sad story of a girl who just wanted to be looked at by others as worthy.
Deep down asking yourself the same question as well and comtemplating suicide in the process.
But you were to scared, so you turned to the only thing that made you feel alive.
Cutting.
You were scared to go to deep but when you became numb, you no longer cared.
And the deeper you went, the number you became.
Until then, until now.
No matter how many times you deny it, no matter what you go through and want you put yourself through.
You will still be that little girl in the darkened corner, crying your eyes out about how the world is so cold.