when i was a little girl, i had an assignment.
it was crucial and important.
"what do i want to be when i grow up?"
it was crucial and important.
"what do i want to be when i grow up?"
the answer everyone expected was along the lines of "princess of "fairy" or "astronaut";
something trivial and silly, just like how young children are.
but my response wasn't any one of those things.
"i just want to be loved."
isn't that why we act like we do?
why we strive and work our asses off to get where we are?
we twist and turn in the mangled webs of society, stuck with plastered fake expressions and false identities; used so we can be liked, so that we can be appreciated;
so that we can be loved.
but that's a little out of reach when the people meant to like you for who you are judge you and inspect everything you do as if you were some experiment; like they are just waiting for you to become the defect;
the failure.
it doesn't matter that your grades are perfect, because you're branded as nerd or geek.
it doesn't matter that you're intelligent because you're tortured and ridiculed for spending your nights studying instead of doing what the "cool kids' do.
it's all about surface area.
you're judged by every scrupulous detail, every figment or fiber; and it shoves you deeper and deeper into the dark place you're beginning to call home.
when they look at you, they don't see how you work forty hours a week just to pay for groceries; they just notice the dirty "rags" you wear.
when they look at you, they don't see the scars and the bruises hidden under your sleeves, they only observe the loser alone at lunch.
when they glance, they don't see the rivers that have ran down your face countless times, just the plastic doll smiles you're used to faking.
when someone looks in your direction, don't think of it as calm or comforting.
think of it as an "audition".
"you always have to look your best,"
is what my mother would say.
well, mom, i hate to agree....
so i won't.
i won't just be some piece of material used for your conformist clothing.
i won't walk around fearful, like a cowered animal, hiding from the hunter.
i won't use my words like weapons, like the poison that drips from your mouth.
i won't be some thing that you can laugh about, like i am some joke or saying used over and over again until it's meaningless.
i am not meaningless.
i am not your play thing.
i am not an excuse to talk trash.
and i am not your bitch.
but my response wasn't any one of those things.
"i just want to be loved."
isn't that why we act like we do?
why we strive and work our asses off to get where we are?
we twist and turn in the mangled webs of society, stuck with plastered fake expressions and false identities; used so we can be liked, so that we can be appreciated;
so that we can be loved.
but that's a little out of reach when the people meant to like you for who you are judge you and inspect everything you do as if you were some experiment; like they are just waiting for you to become the defect;
the failure.
it doesn't matter that your grades are perfect, because you're branded as nerd or geek.
it doesn't matter that you're intelligent because you're tortured and ridiculed for spending your nights studying instead of doing what the "cool kids' do.
it's all about surface area.
you're judged by every scrupulous detail, every figment or fiber; and it shoves you deeper and deeper into the dark place you're beginning to call home.
when they look at you, they don't see how you work forty hours a week just to pay for groceries; they just notice the dirty "rags" you wear.
when they look at you, they don't see the scars and the bruises hidden under your sleeves, they only observe the loser alone at lunch.
when they glance, they don't see the rivers that have ran down your face countless times, just the plastic doll smiles you're used to faking.
when someone looks in your direction, don't think of it as calm or comforting.
think of it as an "audition".
"you always have to look your best,"
is what my mother would say.
well, mom, i hate to agree....
so i won't.
i won't just be some piece of material used for your conformist clothing.
i won't walk around fearful, like a cowered animal, hiding from the hunter.
i won't use my words like weapons, like the poison that drips from your mouth.
i won't be some thing that you can laugh about, like i am some joke or saying used over and over again until it's meaningless.
i am not meaningless.
i am not your play thing.
i am not an excuse to talk trash.
and i am not your bitch.
don't pretend to know me,
because you don't.
but i know you.
and i am so, so sorry.
with love and light,
eve morgan
because you don't.
but i know you.
and i am so, so sorry.
with love and light,
eve morgan
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