I told myself I was over it. I was over caring about their opinion for me
I mean, who cares? It’s all negative anyway.
Yet I feel my grasp on who I am fading
And I told myself that I was done conforming to their opinions
yet, here I am.
Bisecting, dissecting flaws, as if I can be fixed. As if I need to be fixed.
Maybe it’s my laugh. The little snorts I can’t keep in.
Maybe its my smile. It’s just… a bit too… weird.
Maybe it’s my awkwardness, My uncertainty to be myself.
Maybe it’s me.
What’s wrong with me? I tell myself that people should take me for who I am.
Yet, each day I brush away something they might not like..
What about me makes it okay for me to cut myself in half for others?
Is it my need for approval?
My need to be… accepted?
The desire to please?
To make someone as happy as possible, regardless of… me.
Me? I’m collateral damage of only my thoughts
That’s set to self destruct