I'm a fucking mess.
Heavy lip corners pulling hard,
Threatening a flash flood.
I'm trying hard to not breathe,
To keep it together.
Those thick tears live in the deeper parts of my lungs,
The parts that hug my heart.
I need a hug.
I need a cigarette.
I need to be okay,
To feel that I deserve to live,
That I am worthy of being loved.
Not just because I have a pretty face sometimes
And my legs are long and sexy
And all men love tall women.
Who am I without my beauty?
I'm afraid to find out.
No one notices me when I'm in my comfy clothes and my comfy face.
No one cares about me when I blend into the background.
I'm supposed to line my eyes
And push up my breasts
And walk with confidence
And smile pretty so that all the doors of opportunity will open up for me.
But it's bullshit.
I seek validation in the many compliments.
I know I must be beautiful and I thought that was my ticket to happiness.
I've been duped.
I've been lied to and tricked.
All those years of compliments and recognition of my beauty only gave me a shallow sense of love.
And I've been left with a deep longing and a distrust.
I've put my power in the hands of every pair of eyes that look my way, hoping they will see through the high cheekbones and the hourglass figure to the confused little bird underneath,
The fragile heart that beats the high notes of hope.
I want to scratch at my face and slouch over my conditioning.
I want to shave my head and scream awful obscenities.
I want to dance the ugly dance and spit venom at the feet of the masses.
Will they love me then?
Will they even be able to look at me?
Why do I even care so much?