Today, I let it get to me.
Today, I let all the secret you're-not-good-enoughs and the obvious yes-it's-yous get to me.
Today, I don't keep my posture and smile every time I'm commented on. I don't nod and say, yes, I don't say, well, and I certainly don't say, you are right.
Today, I don't try to seem as if I'm not vulnerable at all, as if I'm the strongest person you've ever seen, as if I, don't, care.
Today, I'm fragile, I'm delicate, I'm brittle like I really am.
Today, I curl up like a ball under the covers, wrinkled as a raisin and sour as lemon.
Today, I cry because you keep telling me that my personality, the one I've been working on forever to fit what really matters, friends, is not okay. I cry because you tell me, yes, people may like you but you won't survive. I cry because you tell me you need to change, change, change, change, change, why aren't you changing?
Today, you tell me that with my personality, I shouldn't even try.
Today, I let it get to me.
Today, I try to cry it all out like I usually do, I try to scream the pain away, but there is, no, sound.
Today, I can't scream because I can only take deep and interrupted breaths.
Today, I try to cry the fragility out and, I, fail.
Today, I tremble with each breath.
Today, I think, please, let it stop.
Today, I can't open my eyes because they are swollen shut and I can't breathe because my nose and my throat are closed up.
Tomorrow, I seem as if I'm not vulnerable at all, as if I'm the strongest person you've ever seen, as if I, don't, care.
Today, I let it get to me.