My Truth, My Daydreams

Do you want to know the truth.
Sometimes, I hate my life.
Don't we all right?
I know I shouldn't.
But it is the truth.
I try not to complain.
Or even voice my opinion.
Sometimes, it is way too difficult to open up to anyone.
I wanted to cut myself.
Told myself that I wanted to die.
Then I think of my dad.
Truly my only supporter.
Don't get me wrong, I have hope somewhere.
It is just lost in a pool of loneliness..
Don't ask me if I am ok.
Because the answer will be "I'm fine" everytime.
You can't sugarcoat it with a pill and psychology.
Sometimes a person just want someone to believe in them
People doubt me everyday
They think they do no wrong.
They think I'm a "princess"
Sorry, I am far from royal.
I think I am a failure.
I even moved across the US for love.
Then to be blamed for every issue.
Sometimes, it isn't always just me.
So I keep to myself.
I have so many hopes and dreams
I just see them in my daydreams and not my reality.


Struggling War With Myself and I

So many nights all alone
Struggling between what I want and what I need.
I try to keep strong and not cry.
I am begging, pleading, and crying for help.
I am in war with myself.
The person that I am
And the person everyone thinks I should be.
I make the same mistakes time and time again
So many things I have endured.
I feel like my life is not mine anymore.
I have been a fighter to the core.
Fight to just have a life of my own.
No one that believes in me
Just saying things people think I need to hear.

What They Call Perfection, Is Really Not

They call it perfection
Trying to strive and live up to others expectations.
Magazines showing size 0.
Thinking we're bigger than we really are.
Why is body image so important?
It makes a person feel small.
Thin figures and thigh gaps.
That's perfection?
It is like taking a pair of scissors to invisible fat.
Shaving away the imperfections.
Cannot look in the mirror without changing.
Changing the hair and face multiple times to find perfection.
Picking out problem areas.
Cutting them from the body.
Perfection is nonexistent.
From the hip bones, to the collarbone.
Nothing is perfect.
The magazines are photoshopped and airbrushed.
That is what society looks up to.

The Other Side of Me

It is funny how it all came crashing down.
I got you talking to me again.
I have almost self destructed before.
But you saved me from it.
You held my hand.
Guided me through.
Calling me beautiful.
Feeling so magical.
We are both fragile.
Easily broken.
Not yet mended.
Where we used to getting hurt
But we ended up causing each other pain.
You are my whole world.
But I cannot put my determination on hold.
We are both selfish.
We just do not want to feel like we failed.
Loving you is sacred.
I won't stop doing so.
You may have
But you will realize that
I am not the blame.
You have something to do with that too.