You know what?

Shut up!

That's not what it is!

Why do you have to

Go and judge every little thing about me?

My clothes,

My hair,

My music.

Listen up.

I dress the way I do because

It is original.

I dye my hair like this because

It is unique.

I listen to this music because

It is GOOD.

I'm tired of you

Calling me

Goth,

Emo,

Scene.

I don't want to deal with

You judging me because

My hair color is different.

So what if I have purple hair?

And no, the music I listen to

Is NOT

Really a scheme to end humanity.

It is NOT

Killing pigs and

Drinking their blood.

Every other word is NOT

Fuck, shit, bastard, or whore.

Okay?

Got that through your thick skull?

I don't do this for attention.

The cutting was not an act.

I never asked for your help.

So why are you drowning me

In it?

This is all real.

It's all really happening.

I didn't want anyone to know,

Especially not you.

I am depressed.

And no,

When I'm in one of my 'moments',

A Zoloft is not an instant fix.

And yes,

It IS your fault.

Who's the one that yelled at me,

Called me names until

I burst out into tears?

Who's the one that called me weak,

When I was doing all I could

To stay strong?

Who's the one that,

In a rage,

Shoved me down the stairs,

Breaking my arm,

Dislocating my shoulder?

Yeah, that's right.

YOU.

Do you see me writing happy poetry?

Poetry about butterflies and rainbows?

No!

If I had had

A happy life, then I wouldn't be

Writing at all.

If I was writing happy,

Then I would be fake.

I would be dead inside,

Nothing left.

I write angry,

And dark,

And creepy,

Because that's what I have to get out.

That's what I have to purge myself of.

When all that comes out,

After I'm done bleeding onto the paper,

THAT'S when I'll write this cheerful crap

Everyone wants.

But nobody will like it.

Wanna know why?

Because it'll still be fake.

I'll never be completely "normal."

I'll always have Shadow inside me.