
If i had to describe the grub who became someone like I; I think that she would be sorry for me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth for how sorry she would be. Her eyes young and full of hope as she looked up at me. Ask if we had manage to do all of the things that we set out to do. Had we manage to become a famous writer and singer. When we turn heads in the streets and instead of what is she doing- We turn heads as we are someone not to be pitied or feared, but looked at with admiration towards us. The girl like her should have had many friends. She should have ran around without a care. She shouldn't look towards the stars and see them as a omen for all those she loved. She should have never even opened her heart so wide as she knew that it would hurt her but she did it anyway. The sweeps that followed only led to her closing off as things got worse and worse until it all snapped. I mourn the girl who wasn't like this. Her eyes clear and sharp to the world around her but stubbornly wished that if she was said to have all of this power that she could change it all and everyone had to listen to her. I mourn the girl whose hair curled loosely around her face as she grinned with all of her teeth. I wish that I could hold her as she denied truths to try to be as happy as she could be and tell her that it wasn't her fault. The girl would pity me for how scars left reminded of how I believed I needed to punish myself. She would pity how tired I look. She would pity the way that curls became with tangled. She would stare at every part and ask what happened. How did someone so pathetic become into existence. When did binds like this come to be about. I mourn the girl whose eyes will become dull and worn. How the light from her eyes will disappear. How she will become myself. What a poor fate for such a child... #writing #self-reflection #cw-self-harm
