31, a fine number

Sometimes I wonder – is it because I’m a girl? – is it just because I’m concealing everything behind a smile? – is it because I’m older, hence I’m expected to understand? – is it because I’m me, that’s why it’s okay? So damn tired of trying to please everyone, and just because I try very hard to defend myself – doesn’t necessarily mean I’m unbreakable. Do you notice the smile I wear is trembling at the thinnest edge – as if it could crumble like the London Bridge? Do you notice the smile almost fades, and how quickly i turn away? Do you notice the – shattered – hope in my eyes glistening like a broken light bulb? Do you realize how i try to channel all the disappointment into being frustrated at other things? Perhaps not, because if you do you might – for a moment – stop poking me with a stick. Or stop rubbing sand on an open wound and taint the red ooze with something so brown.

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