I look in the mirror; who is this girl I see staring back at me? It is a reflection of who I once was, no longer who I want to be or become. I see the tracks of my tears that run like a razor blade, down the cracks of my face.
My eyes look a little more tired, some would say wiser than just a few month ago. But I don’t feel any wiser, or any stronger than before. Why does everyone keep telling me that it will get better, that good things come to those who wait, those who are patient? I want to wear my crown now, it is rightfully mine. But what is the point of having glory if you have no one special to share it with?
How will I ever know if something is good for me before I reach the point of utter inhalation and desperate melt down? I don't want to hear you're sorry. Sorry does not heal the pain I felt and the loneliness that flooded my arteries of hope.
Do not tell me to relax, I don’t want to. I have worked hard to better myself, make myself someone who cares for others with the utmost dedication and quality of care.
I will not be your fool, but I will remain my own fool. At least if I die tomorrow, I can die knowing that I fought for what I wanted most; your love.
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