It's hard to look around you and see how far behind everyone you are; to see miles stretching between you and the rest of the world. It hurts. It hurts so much to be the worst. It hurts to be the least. It hurts to be looked at with disdain and disappointment. It just hurts. It hurts so bad.
It tears a hole in you. The hole never heals, jagged and bleeding at all times. It drains you. It tires you. It leaves you sore and hollowed. It grows and grows with every look and harsh word.
No one notices. No one cares. No one tries.
The hurt is always there, at the heart of you. It fills your bitter smiles and brittle words. Bubbling, overflowing, scalding. It slips up into your lungs, shortens your breaths into shuddering gasps and heaves. Your fingers shake with the intensity of it. Your eyes dry out and burn.
No one notices. No one cares. No one tries.
You are a disappointment. You are a stain. You are an imbecile. You are unwanted. You are undisciplined. You are unloved.
Why?
Why?
Why?
It hurts. The hurt never goes away. It is always there, dwelling deep down in your darkest thoughts and dreams. It hurts to smile. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to live. It hurts to try. You will never be good enough, not for them.
People say to never give up. They say that it will get better. They say to be the better person. They say you only need to try. They say.
Who are they?
No one notices the amount of effort it takes you to get out of bed in the morning, to leave the safety that comes with hiding under the covers.
No one cares about the tiredness that drags at your shoulders as you stand, as you take all that they throw at you.
No one tries to look past the cracked, chipped, rotten mask that you don, the scream hiding behind your eyes.
It hurts.
Why does it hurt?
"Because they were roses and I was just a dandelion."