Fitting In
By SMC
We're moving again. Because of me. Always, because of me! I guess I should feel lucky. My parents accept me for what I am. They don't fear me. Much.
I don't get it, I really don't. I didn't ask for this! You can't help what you look like. What you were born looking like. This is no different! Certain things are beyond ones control! It's not fair! It doesn't change a damn thing! I'm me. I am who I am. I care about the things I care about! Does that make me less of a person?
I'm no different than them. I want to fit in, just like everyone else. Why do I feel like the queen of the lepers?
Oh, I know that there are others out there who feel the way I do. I know I'm not alone. But sometimes, I feel like I'm just hanging on by my fingertips. Sometimes, I just want to go to the nearest bridge, and end it all.
They say suicides go to hell. But I feel like I'm in hell already. Surely a merciful God would understand. But then, it was God who made me like this!
A nice little joke to pass the time with?
And that's the biggest irony of all. People who suposedly purport God's words, think of me solely as a worthless piece of trash to be swept away with the rest. They don't see me as I really am. No one does, not even my parents.
So cold here, so alone. Tired of all the fighting. Don't want to do this anymore Just want to be me. Except, I can't be.
When I'm gone, will they care?
The answer is no.