I am that girl

I am that girl

Courtesy of flickr.com

I am the girl who used to be suicidal; the one you all thought wasn’t worth a title.

I wondered why I was always fighting for my survival.

I heard the lies and jokes of society.

I saw how I was treated differently from everybody.

I wanted to fit in, be in, and do all the things everyone did without feeling like I looked like a sin. Looking in the mirror at the face I thought was never good enough, the body that you all looked down on, the one I soon became ashamed of, the one that’ll never be thin.

I am the girl who used to be suicidal; the one you all thought wasn’t worth a title.

I pretended to be the most popular girl in school as I was alone in my room, judging myself in the mirror, imagining that guys liked me and perhaps thought I was kind of cool.

I felt as if maybe I pretended to be someone I was not, I would somehow gain a little bit of acceptance in school.

I touched the rope, thinking that maybe now I’ll go somewhere a place where I’m accepted as I set up my death station, my final destination.

I worried that I couldn’t, cried that maybe I shouldn’t, but then again I thought if I didn’t they wouldn’t.

I cried the last tear, closed my eyes said my final goodbye to the room that held me when I cried, the room that accepted me when the world was not satisfied. Tightening the knot my hands shook with anticipation, standing on the positioned chair that held my pathway to death. If only I knew that once the door opened it would reveal my mom staring at me straight in the eyes, begging me to come down frantically screaming why. Confused to what happened to the happy girl I used to be, shouting she’ll get me help and therapy.

I said goodbye, kicked the chair and hanged in the air looking at myself through my mother’s eyes seeing that to her me being me was good enough to satisfy.

I am the girl who used to be suicidal; the one you all thought wasn’t worth a title.

I understand now that I’ll never be accepted by society, and that I was made in God’s image to be who He made me to be.

I say daily as a reminder of my pain that I’m not perfect, but I’m so close to being so it scares me, and if others don’t believe it I’ll make them see it.

I dream of a place that girls in the same situation that I used to be in can see that there’s more to the world than this messed up society, and embrace who God made them to be.

I try to help those who used to be like me, those scared of the outside, scared of the newfound society, the ones at this very moment taking their very own lives to see that they are more than what the world claims them to be.

I hope and pray that now you all see that behind a smile can be a girl as broken as me, and that those you see dream to be accepted for who they are rather than what they are.

I am the girl who attempted suicide; the same one you all thought wasn’t worth a title.