A second choice. That’s what I feel I am; a second choice. A person everybody calls last, because it’s mostly sure I’ll pick up and I’ll be available for whatever the reason you called. I don’t really know how to explain this feeling, it’s like I've ‘Easy’ written on my forehead; am I that easy? I truly want to know, am I? It’s like I don’t even deserve a chance to try and be myself because everybody expects me to be someone else, a replacement of someone else; a second choice. So I live with the constant reminder that I was never good enough, that I’m never good enough to be just myself.
And that’s all I ask for, a chance, an opportunity to be myself and nobody else. And it shouldn't be too much to ask, at all. But I still see all the astonished faces every single time I try, pushing me down to the oblivion, hoping I’ll forget it or get too tired to try again. But I still rise, again, every time they try to push me down, most of the times without any help; because I’m not expected to need that help. I’m expected to be quiet and perfect like a little doll; flawless.
And even though I know it’s not my fault they think like that, I still try to impress them…all to no avail.
But I’m not flawless; I actually stand far from that. I can feel my soul covered with ugly scars life gave me for trying to please everybody, but I can’t help it. I can’t help trying to help others become better even if that implies I’ll be hurting, even if that implies not getting anything nice in return from them, not a ‘thank you’, not a hand shake, not even a smile; all I’m worth of are sympathetic lies, punches in the heart and stabs in the soul. But I stitch my soul, dry my tears and in the next day I’m there again, against all odds, ready for another round.
So you can say that I’m easy, the amount of times you want to; but don’t you dare say I’m not strong.
Dark Velvet | by Andie Maars | original on DeviantArt
You should listen to Broken Angel by Boyce Avenue while you read this… [link]