Why am i working so hard for school that my art is repressed and i develop bad habits just to be an honor student when every other honor student is chillin in their comfortable beds in which where they dedicate their stupid weekend to facebook and shit because they have all the time in the world and I here can’t even find the time to draw and improve myself in which fields I am passionate about and they THEY get to not have these worries on their shoulders and They don’t get to sleep wishing they don’t wake up or go into some sort of coma and they are liked by everybody without effort whilst i am a horrible mess of hair undone and rugged face and and why do they get to ENJOY high school and not have horrid memories of self-harm and self-destruction and why do THEY get to have friends flocking them when they’re tired and weary and in need while I faced all my struggles alone so far but hey I’m still alive i haven’t killed myself and I’m not going to because my art is so lonely being trapped inside a person and I’m strong I’m strong I’m strong I’m strong enough to get through another wave of this shit because all the times I skipped meals taught me that I like food and all the times I skipped sleep taught me that I need it and all the times I was alone screamed that I have myself and that’s okay I’m a product in development when they get to face hurricanes in the future they’re going to be weak and i, i won’t even see them as hurricanes anymore they’re mountains i’ve passed through, familiar and tilled with all the effort and tears of a fifteen year old wrecked girl who dug and dug her grave then realised that what she’s digging was not for her never was never will be and they can suck they’re baby thumbs when everything comes crashing down for them when I have played with boulders trying to crush me everyday and every single day I managed to win and all these boulders that crashed along will be built someday as a castle and all the things that once tried to destroy me will someday become my weapon and I will get through this even if I had to do so all alone. They can rest their head on my heart as if it were a pillow but it’s a foe, a fiend for inside of it is every harsh thing life has spit on me.
