My Flawed Design

Just because you've seen me grow, and you've seen me age, does not mean you know who I am. I've hidden who I am from everyone, foolishly scared of being hated, of being discriminated against. No one knows what truly goes through my mind when I sit in class. No one knows what I've had happen to me.

No matter who you are, you have no idea just how messed up I am. You don't have a clue as to what I wish I never saw. Yeah, you could say that I have nothing to complain about- that others have had it so much worse than me- but it hasn't happened to me, and I'm not going to pretend that I know how bad their misfortune is.

I always feel alone, I feel stupid, untalented, when I'm with others. I can't help but feel jealous of everyone around me, for everything they do. I live an entirely different life in my mind, but sometimes, pieces of real life comes seeping through.

I've spent so many nights hidden in my shower, letting the water pour down on my body, so hot it scalds my skin. And as the water mixes with the foolish tears I cry, I can't help but hate myself. I can't help but think I'm nothing more than a freak; can't help but think that no one else my age would spend their life hiding in their shower pitying their selves. So I dry my tears, and slap on some broken barbie doll smile, or some expressionless mask. Then I force myself to my feet, and turn off the water, and return to my room.

And the next day, no one's the wiser. Not even you.

"Maybe this is all a part of my flawed design."