I used to look at people and think “why on earth would you do that.” Now, however, I look at people and see different levels of pain. That ostentatious outfit is clearly a cry for help in a way much deeper than the superficial. It is the cry of “see me.” See me for what I am and what I’m not. See me for the human being I can’t help but be. See me as a person before you judge me as a lost cause. The person “whoring” around is more than an easy lay, within every intimate moment given away is a whisper of the heart “love me.” Love me, make me feel important here now so I can vanquish that voice that says I’m nothing. Prove to me right now that I am, that I am something, someone who has some type of worth. I want to feel this forever, but I will take what I can get in this rapid half an hour. The wallflower shrinking away inwardly after every harsh word, every bullied moment, every taunt reverberates with the echo… “Feel my pain.” Feel my pain, I’ve been ridiculed and made the butt of every joke my whole life. Can’t you see that you are slowly killing me. That my whole world is simply composed of all the ways in which I fail to be as superior as those around me. I hate who I am but I also can’t help my basic composition. I am not you, please stop persecuting me for it. I used to look at people and see their immediate exterior. Now I look at them and see the cracks they try to hide, so desperately. All I want to say is that it is okay, I am human too. Some fissures run deeper than others, but none of them invalidate me, nor you.