Maybe if she didn’t keep fucking up she would find herself

Maybe if she didn’t keep abusing drugs she would be happy

And maybe if she didn’t keep lying to her friends (what does she even have to prove?)

She would feel more alive than before.

But she knows that she’s not as good as she makes herself sound

Any attempt at self confidence is shattered

By the dismal view she has on herself.

And maybe if she lived up to half the things she says she wants to do

She would deserve everything she’s been given.

But she still hurts all the people around her

She still doesn’t think before she speaks

And her words are as harsh as her cynicism

She finds that the person she made in her daydreams is so much more beautiful

And even if it’s not about self appearance,

A little extra weight never hurt anyone.

And even if it’s not about being an addict,

That money was never hers to spend in the first place.

And when her parents tell her their proud it’s only because

They don’t know half the shit she’s done.

And when her friends tell her they like her,

She can’t even fathom why.

And maybe it’s about everything she doesn’t see in herself

Maybe it’s about how immature she really is,

And how self absorbed

And arrogant

And narcissistic.

She’ll cut others down when she’s sure that she has no room to talk

And even when empathizing with people

Of course her life is so much more fucking dramatic

And all those things that she prides herself on

Won’t mean anything eventually

Because she knows that even if people care about her,

And that makes her want to better herself for them

That she will never change

Because she doesn’t know how.

And as she wonders what makes people emotionally stable

She looks for every last escape.

Sleeping pills have become her newest salvation,

Five of them and out like a light

That’s all she can hope for.

And is wishing for a coma, or death, really that horrid?
Because she finds herself desperately wondering

What people would say if she died

And it would reaffirm that they cared in the first place

Not that she would be around to see it.

And she is such a fucking pathetic moron

It’s laughable

Because it’s another excuse to show people the cuts on her arms

And to whine, ‘pity me’

And to show them… something, she’s not sure what yet.

And she wonders what it’s like to be a good person.

Because maybe, then maybe, she’d have a chance.

For now all she can do is be selfish and take take take

Desperately trying to engrave herself into people’s memories

When she has no right

And all she really wants to do is feel, even when she’s sober

And to smile without weed, alcohol, sleeping pills, cigarettes,

And that wonderful injection of self loathing.

And all she wants is to feel good about herself,

But she’s too loud

And too pushy

And too scared.

Because deep in her heart in a place that she tries to not return oto often

She knows that she would have been better off dying of an overdose

In high school

Because then she wouldn’t have had to hurt her father like she did

Or push her mother away

Or steal and lie and cheat and be the biggest pile of shit

But she wanted so badly to go somewhere

To see all those things she’s never known

But she doesn’t deserve it.

She’ll take it, but she doesn’t deserve it.

I wonder if she ever will.

And she is so weak that it disgusts her

And she’s so ugly that she can’t even own up to her image

And she only wishes that she could make it better

And let the pain ebb away like it never existed in the first place

And… I really fucking wish she wasn’t me.

Because then maybe this wouldn’t be the truth.