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I don't know what I want.

I look outside of my bedroom window, the fading sky making me feel empty. I can't really help myself anymore, I've tried. I've been broken like glass, and so I cut through people's skin, burning through their layers like it was nothing. And in the process, I was healing my own scars. But even after healing, it always comes back down to the pain. I can't really move on from what I went through, because every time I think I've healed, another issue comes into play. I feel like my lifes a movie, but not even for myself anymore. Sure, I'm the highlight, but I'm meant for people to watch, stare at and laugh at. To judge, and not be afraid of what will happen if they do judge me. I'm not something people truly care for, I'm all a part of the scheme, of the strange societal normality in which I can't escape. Friends call me popular, strangers call me 'her'. I know this to be true because I've seen it be said multiple times around the halls that haunt me. Strange murmurs and side-conversations about me, unaware how to identify me. To them I'm like the wind, I flow free from their judgment, but on the inside I'm hurting from the way they judge me. They want me to be skinny, to be quiet, to be louder, to be athletic, to be artsy, to be hard-working, to complain about work, to fight for them, to not argue, to look 'better', to stay natural. But I can't be any of those things. I can be me, and they already have that. People are struck by awe when they realize that 'her' is actually liked. She was once the loser, an outcast hated by everyone around her. Being judged is one thing, but disliked is another. Now, though some people can't look past my flaws, most notice my changes, and appreciate them. They are confused however, confused that someone who is still so different, can still fit in better than anyone else. A strange occurrence it is, but some people truly find me to be special because of it. I feel like what I am isn't what I want to be, however. A part of me wants to be in a box, to fit in, to be perfect, but also so different at the same time. The other part of me is convinced I am perfect, I have everything I want, and what I don't have I don't need.  But this side of me is ignorant, and ignores all the mental strain I face just to keep a fake persona up every time I leave my home. At this point it's beyond outside of home, it's inside of home, with people I trust, and even with myself. I cannot be who I truly am even with myself. I don't know who I am. I don't know what to be, I don't know what I need, what my future holds, what my goals are, what I'm happy and unhappy with. I don't know what I want. I don't know myself. 

Chapter two, the hard acceptance.

Sometimes I wonder, if one day I just stopped talking, and never let people hear my voice again, what people would do. Most people would like to assume that all of their friends would care, stick to them, and try to keep them near, even if they were a world gone silent. But the reality is that, if someone really gave up, lost their grasp on the social world that is so prevalent, nobody would notice them anymore. People would overlook them so quickly, as if they weren't even there. Because if you don't have a presence of your own, nobody cares to make one for you. Every friend you ever had, every alliance you'd ever made, gone. All gone to the stupid world, the dumb norms, and the silence that goes with you. Your world, as much as theirs, would forever go silent. As if you were banned from existence. Gone, and never to return. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy, the pain that comes with it. But I, as a person, have felt it. For many weeks of my life, I felt ignored, and alone. Worst part aside from that, is I wasn't so 'ignored' for long. I was eventually judged instead. What I've already mentioned.