003
Fitting in never made sense. Neither did pretending to be someone I am not. But still I did it, still I tried. I wanted to make you proud; I wanted you to love me. None of it makes any sense now.
You were never worth the pain. When I needed you most, you only wanted to fuck. When I said no, you didn’t listen. You never listened. You never saw me for who I am. If ever I deviated from your vision of who you wanted me to be, you did whatever you could to make me feel utterly worthless.
Get the august’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I deserve better. I am not much. Short, buzzed hair, small feet and hands — but I work hard. I give my all whenever I can, try to laugh rather than cry. I love: life, truth, the world, the cosmos, words.
Words, perhaps, above all. I can write much faster than I can draw or paint. My mind is always full, but my work is exhausting, my schedule often grueling.
But I am happy. Or trying desperately to be.
