It always frustrated me, being the “pretty girl” or the girl who everyone believed to be so perfect, especially when I didn’t feel that way. It always frustrated me, having people think that I was this conceited, self-centered “mean girl”, when in fact, I’ve always been the complete opposite. Okay, maybe I was a little mean at times, but that’s because I was unhappy.
People will look at your outer appearance and assume that you have everything figured out. “What could possibly be wrong with you? You’re smart, you’re pretty, etc.” Yeah, that’s what you think. It got to a point where I didn’t want the compliments. They made me angry. I’d constantly think “yeah right”. I’d look in the mirror and wonder what everyone else saw and why I didn’t see the same thing.
I wrote a poem on September 25, 2017, when I was still battling with my inner demons:
“Little miss perfect” ain’t so perfect.
I don’t even know why you’d ever think that… Fuck what you think.
Pain, heartache, sadness, anger,
i’ve felt it all, but no one ever knew.
“Little miss perfect” ain’t so fucking perfect.
Loss, regret, misery, yeah I’ve been there.
You couldn’t imagine what goes on in this head of mine.
You couldn’t last a day, an hour in these shoes of mine.
“Little miss perfect”, yeah maybe,
that’s who I wanna be.
Maybe that’s who I try to be.
What’s it to you?
So busy worried about me, and who you think I am,
well, who are you? Do I know you?
Do YOU know you?
I wrote this poem as a response to all those people who have constantly labeled me as this perfect being, without really knowing me, on the inside. As you can see, it bothered me, but they never knew. They probably thought that they were doing me a favor, boosting my ego, when in fact, they were adding to my self destruction.
I felt as if I had to live up to this label. I had to be little miss perfect. I couldn’t show when I was down or hurting. I couldn’t be sad. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t seem weak. So I took on this persona. I became who people wanted me to be, externally anyway. I tucked my sorrows away, in the back of my mind, letting them build and build, until I became numb.
I thought I was just being strong, but no, there’s a difference. Strength is when you comfront your problems, head on. Numbness is dangerous. You don’t feel, the good or the bad. You can’t empathize. You can’t express yourself. This is rock bottom.
Don’t allow yourself to enter the stage of numbness. This means, don’t ignore or dismiss your battles. Fight them. Don’t keep things bottled up, trying to stay strong for other people. Its okay to be weak. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to let people know who you truly are, even if she is an emotional wreck. Those closest to you will still love you and appreciate you even more for letting them in. Don’t let other people dictate your life or control how you see yourself. You’re in charge.