Fragile Existence.

She's dying, She's dying, and no one's seeing. Her mere esse is fading away and no one is there to hold onto her. Everyone is leaving and everyone's already gone. She's slowly losing who she is. Her fragile and shattered heart, how much worse could it get. Receiving all the hate and the so-called love. Everyone abandoned the tattered doll. She was pretty but not for long. She can't scream nor can she cry because she has to uphold the values of being perfect. She's bruised but on the inside, her escape has become her demise. She can't see what she needs to, it's clouded by the hurt and pain caused by the people who loved her. Her hair is neatly done and dressed to perfection yet no one sees the scar running across her esse. It's piercing deeper and she can't stop it because you need to bear it to be perfect. Knowing that it'll end soon, she's holding on but struggling to. She's in a dark place, isolated and in fear because she doesn't know when tomorrow will disappear. She's breathing but it's painful with each breath. Constantly having a tight feeling in her chest. Who is she? What will she do? The poor perfect girl has no clue. 

He also left and she also left and they also left, the girl that wasn't supposed to be left alone. The girl who relied on others for support. The one that needs to be independent but can't depend on herself because if she does she might go down even further. Listening to herself is like being hated, looking at herself makes her angry, and seeing how people treat her makes her want to fade but she doesn't want to disappear because she's a coward that doesn't know how to give up. She needs to be perfect. She was molded by perfection yet she didn't become one. She strayed way too far from being considered perfect because that little girl became a living hell for the ones that tried to make her perfect.

How does one idly sit back and watch as another gets trampled? Just looking at you I search for scars and wonder how you are. You have an outward appearance of a happy and respected person who works hard but I wonder who you truly are. Your attire and character all show the feature of an introvert and my mind ponders on what happens to you day-to-day. The first time I heard I was shocked and had to conceal all my emotions but I worried for your safety and hope you weren't breaking. It's hard to watch because I can't help, I wasn't supposed to even know of what you went through. But how? I know you might tell people you're okay but what you went through how could they believe your lies.

I don't purposely lie, it just happens. The fear of talking and not being understood by those you want approval from is scarier than making a simple white lie. I breathe the same air and see the same things that occupy my tiny room, I have no escape. The comfort of my music and my bed is what I rely on when times are rough. The comfort of people seems to drain me, explaining and expressing myself seems like a hassle. The same words and the same reactions to just the slightest mention of my past make people feel remorse as to how such a doll could grow to be such a monster. I'm beautiful they say, they haven't seen the inside. I'm smart they say, they haven't met my childish side. I'm well-versed they say, they don't know what it takes. They say I can do it, they don't know of my struggles. I have to act like everything is fine and that everything will be fine. I'm always to smile because there's no reason not to. I have everything that I need, do you not know of the people that want this. I want love. I have love. I am love but I can't feel love. I want to love. I want to feel love. How much more does it take to be blinded by all the things that surround you? I am a girl of immeasurable love but somehow it's concealed. I have so much to give yet it gets stuck behind a wall. Is it regret? Pain? Guilt? Fear? I am too afraid of many things that's why it's hard to move forward. That's why it's hard to keep connections that I hold dear. 

She just wants to be seen and wanted. She is beautiful inside and out but she believes the opposite. She is a wonderful person yet she sees herself as a monster. There is so much to this girl that others don't see, she is beautiful, so very beautiful. I want her to understand that but who am I to intrude on her silent emotions. She is perfect. She isn't perfect. She is imperfectly perfect. I know her, I understand her, maybe it's because I am her. 

Written by Alyssa Chin