Sit down, shut up and look pretty. Those are the things that my mom tell me every time I try to be my self. She said you need to smile more because your sadness makes all of your family and friends sad and it will only push them away. So now I've become attached to my faces fake smile. Everyone has seen it so much they think it's real.
I'm scared.
I'm scared because I want to live but I want to die. But what do I live for when my inzombia doesn't let me dream and how do I live when I don't have any dreams. I can't. So I cry, I cut, I scream and I right. Just trying to forget.
Because my gift from my mom will be a box full of dispersion rapid in pepper of anxiety the tape holding it together is inzombia and the bow the dam bow is. So don't tell me to sit down because I will stand up and fight. Don't tell me to shut up because you will hear my voice loud maybe not clear but I will be loud. And the next time you tell me to look pretty I will paint my body with your blood and say I'm prettier than you will ever be better I'm a better you.