I hate that word.

If I hate anything it would be that word.

A word that haunts me –

Mocks me –

Laughs at me.

I am being cratered by imperfections and

I can do nothing but take the blows.

They trash at me, claw at me, and I want to scream –

But I know I can't.

I am in a room of darkness and I am shattering,

Piece by piece and I tell everyone that nothing's wrong,

That everything is good and fine and that these smiles are real.


That they believe it, blinded by what they want to see. Doubt of anything bad or anything less than fine.

Because no one can live like that.

I can't stop crying at night.

Sometimes I don't even have a reason.

I can stop crying in desperation – in exhaustion.

I'm so tired . . . so very, very tired.

I am burdened with being one's reflection, always looking behind me.

Right over my shoulder

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