I’m the sort of girl
you’ll find on the dance floor.
My face will be laughing,
my cheeks flushed,
but in reality,
I despise myself.
I feel inadequate.
I feel like my face is too common,
my hair is just a greyish mop.
My laugh is too obnoxious.
My dress is too old.
Yet I act like nothing matters,
I make others smile and smile myself.
But at night,
when I’m with myself and only myself,
I look at my crinkled dress and messy hair,
my smeared makeup and sweaty face…
and I say
to myself
‘what’s the point’
I’ll never measure up.
I’ll never be pretty enough.
I hate that
I’ll never be more
than the girl that helps all the boys get her friends.
I’ll never be more
than the third wheel
or the person with only a personality.
And the worst part,
my personality
isn’t
mine.
I stole it
from every other person I admire.
I crumple to the floor,
my hidden tears falling now.
The darkness welcomes me.
My sobs suffocate me.
Enough,
is something
I
will never
be.