"But when she thinks about her self,
she just can't tell why.
She looks in the mirror
Wishing for perfection
She does her make up and straighten her hair,
Then frowns at her reflection.
She throws the mirror down.
It shatters on the floor.
She runs to her bed crying;
She can't take it anymore.
She wants a better smile,
And different color hair.
She hates her body , nose , and feet.
And wishes her freckles weren't there.
She doesn't talk to many boys.
She's not popular at her school.
Shes hoping for attention.
And wishes she was cool.
You think she's very happy,
But that's really just a lie.
Her insecurities and pains
Are hidden in disguise.
She goes back to the bathroom,
Quietly shuts the door.
She picks up a piece of glass
And sits on the floor.
She connects the pieces together-
A puzzle made of glass
She then starts to think; she thinks a lot,
Then she thinks about her past.
She remembers when she was little,
When nobody was mean.
It didn't matter how you looked or dressed-
It's so tough to be a teen.
She glues together the pieces
Still sitting on the cold bathroom tiles.
She looks at her self and sees:
She's a broken girl in a broken world forced to wear a smile."
-l.k
My friend I am a mess to be honest with you. Every where I go I see families and children being happy and laughing with one another, when is it my turn? I had an anxiety attack before my grandpas funeral and my friend it was horrible. The next day my body ached with pain and I sat there waiting for you to come... You never did.
What pisses me off is that if a person wants to talk to me they need to do it to my face, I don't like it if they try to act like they know me when they haven't met me. My friend you did that to me and you knew how much I hated it, we had a good friendship.
My friend can I ask you a question? Of course I can, you have no choice or say. When you died did you take all our secrets with you? Or did you just put them away like your problems? I still have yours, I talk about them everyday only to you though, the funny thing is I know you're listening. I know exactly what you're thinking when I talk to you about them, I could hear you saying "Yeah, okay I know all of these." but I still continue to tell you.
I'm sorry for what I made you. I don't even need to say what I did because I know you're standing behind me watching me write every word that hits this paper. I could hear you crying in the corner of me bedroom wall, but I brush you off. I don't know why you're crying, you did this to your self. If I didn't make you do what you did, you would still be here there for it's my fault and I am the cause for this situation.
People tell me that it's all in my head and that you're still here but you're not. I saw everything. You're gone.
My friend people can't feel depression, they get diagnosed with it. I swear if I hear one more low voice coward say they have it, I will literally hurt them my self. I don't like it when people tell me I'm making people feel depressed because of what I say to them over social media, if they start it and keep commenting because I'm not replying means they wan't to start something. So if I reply back to them somehow I made them feel that way? No. Don't blame me for shit another person started.
My friend my letters have been growing shorter and I want to tell you what's wrong but you won't listen, you never do.
I promise my life will be better again, I just have to work on it. I promise I'll keep up with my letters only because I have stuff to tell you, and nobody else will listen. I promise.
Goodbye my friend I love and miss you, I'll see you soon.
