One day, I hope that someone will see through my fake smile, give me a hug, and say that it is okay. I always run around, smiling. All day. No one seems to notice that inside, I am being destroyed. Bit by bit.
One day. My classmates found me crying. They asked why. I didn't have any specific reason. I just needed to cry. They told me what they meant about me as a person, and what I might stop being so stubborn. But I stand for the things I say. And I might seem as a besserwisser, but that's just my way of feeling good about myself. That's the only way I can say "I am a good person."
One day, I hope that I meet the one guy. The one who calls me beautiful, instead of hot. Gorgeous instead of sexy. The guy who will take care of me when I cry myself to sleep, or when I have nightmares about things that happened earlier.
One day, I hope that all my troubles will just get washed down the drain.
One day, I thought about taking my life. But then I thought about those that I'd leave behind. My