Do you really want to know why I hate talking to people? it is because people are content to accept my facade and never truly dig deeper. They see a happy girl but never question the scars on my arms, the pain in my eyes, the ache beating in my chest. When there are days when the mask slips and the true me is revealed, I am met with scorn and distaste. HOW DARE SHE NOT BE HAPPY? WHERE IS THE SMILES? WHERE IS THE CHEER? On those days, I rage. I burn as if I have been sent to Hell. I cry like I once did when I foolishly believed he was the one. I scream as if the world is stealing my voice and I am desperate to be heard. They don’t want to be reminded of their own pain. I am needed to be happy, it’s a sad fact. I am the single body of sunlight that keeps people off the edge. Such dreary days are battled away by my smiles. Even as I write this, I want to laugh and scream. I hate it; it is a poison that eats my insides like cotton candy.

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