I’m stepping my foot onto something so clear, yet so dear but all i feel is fear.

is my arm skinny enough?

is my bag too big?

is my make up too visible?

am i not trying enough?

does this makes me look like a whimp?

am i actually being heard or am i still being invisible?

again and again and again. am i still the side character? it doesn’t matter as long as it’s benefical to others, but oh God what i wouldn’t give to taste the water where the cup is fancier, and the air is cleaner, and the girls are prettier. because i’m so sick of being different, i’m so sick of being fatter, i’m so sick of being weirder.

Just because i know what i’m doing is real. I dance around it out of fear. Now, i no longer wish upon a star like a i used to as a kid. Now, i wish on being like the other girls so i could sit in the cool kid’s car.

But my eyes search, far. too far sometimes it kills. because they were never meant to be my target audience but somehow i’m entertainment to them. As i dance around the fence that they’ll never reach their hands.

I ran to the lakes and drown myself in water, but now i’m just an insecure character