Alright, so I kind of wrote this on a whim. I showed it to June, who encouraged me to post it. Have at it. I hope you like it.
**
I know what you see me as. You see me how you've always seen me. Weak. Shy. Nerdy. In the past few months, you've added a new word to what you think of me: scared. You see what you never saw before: the girl who is terrified of people, who goes to therapy, and who has thought about suicide. I told you too much. I ran to you when I was alone and so scared that all I wanted to do was hide away from people, even after you'd broken my heart. I trusted you and you questioned why I did. You didn't deny that everything I said to you was sent around the school and I hated you for that.
A lot of times, I wish you'd walk in my shoes. I want you to feel the way I've felt every day for as long as I can remember until recently. Feel those eyes bearing down on you. Feel sick because of all of the people. Feel the pain of a girl who has never fit in.
I remember wishing to be like you. Everyone loves you. Your charm and jokes hook every girl in the room, hook, line, and sinker. You even put me at ease when I got to know you. ME. The girl who couldn't sit on the porch without extreme anxiety. I admit it, I feel for your charm. I looked forward to the class I had with you just because you made me laugh harder than anyone else ever has. Around you, in that class, I felt human--not like some freak who struggled in her classes and who had intense anxiety--I felt special.
Looking back, I knew your flaws all along. You were arrogant and cared for no one but yourself. You didn't care about me. The "Everything's going to be okay,"'s meant nothing. I don't even know why you pretended because you didn't pretend when I lectured you online. There was nothing confusing about "Pretend all you want but I'm just going to tell you straight up that I don't really care at all." Hurting me is an easy task but you seem to make it as easy as counting the alphabet.
Sometimes I hear random parts of conservations from you and wonder if you really do care. I wonder if there's a reason I have to censor my talking because your friends hear and report what I say back to you. I wonder if there's a reason my online blog on another site is being read by you and/or some of your close friends.
In your mind, I'll always be weak. I'll always be the person who helps little kids when they're down, the person who volunteers her time to do good, the person who is scared of you. You don't realize that I actually care about people and it's something I don't think you'll ever grasp. I'm slowly escaping that life of anxiety and that takes courage.
But, to you, I'll always be weak.
Points: 2082
Reviews: 71
Donate