I cry through my skin.

 I'm sorry that I was born the way I am. I'm sorry that I can't cry with my eyes and I have to cry through my skin instead. I'm sorry you don't understaned the darkness, I'm sorry I can't tell you. I'm sorry that you don't believe my lies, that you refuse to let them cover the painful truth. I'm sorry that I'm not perfect, that I'm so self absorbed...I'm sorry I try to make myself invisable by not eating, to become so thin that I disappear and even though I'm not beautiful it doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry that I try to put the pieces back together only to find that it wasn't good enough before it broke and you never wanted it...You only were angry because it broke in the first place.

 But that's the way it is, isn't it? You never wanted it, you just didn't want it to break. When it breaks, you can't have it anymore. It's not yours to controle as you wish anymore. And that's why they're so angry with me...I'm broken. I started out solid, then I cracked, then someone decided to hurl me to the floor and stomp on me and I shattered into a million pieces. They never wanted me, but they had me...So I was just supossed to be there. I wasn't supossed to break because then they couldn't have me anymore. I wasn't theirs. But I was never really there's to begin with...Because I can't be someone's if they don't want me, I refuse to be. But they wouldn't accept my refusal, they told me I was still theirs and then I got more broken and then I broke something that truely was theirs...Their illusions. They knew that I wasn't okay, they knew that I couldn't cry and there was no point in anything anymore...So they got mad and they sent me away to get fixed. And for a little while...It seemed like I might have been, but then I realize...They didn't fix me. They smothered the broken pieces with glue and told me that I was always going to be that way.

 Well, the glue isn't holding me together anymore. I'm falling apart and I can feel the cracks widening. I'm breaking, but I don't know how to fix myself...My body is crying and yet my eyes still can't. My very soul has been cheapened by all their attempts to fix me...Only to have them all settle on  'well enough' because they don't remember me without cracks and chips anyways.

 I'm not okay with well enough. I'm not okay with being bnroken. I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay with not being perfect, with their anger, with being owned by those who don't give a damn about me. I'd fix it, only I don't remember where the cracks first formed...Or who created them or why. Even if I did try to fix it, I'd probably just ductape the gluey pieces back together and have it so insulated that it can't feel or see and it looks just fine but it's more broken than ever.

 Although, right now...I'd settle for being ductaped, I wouldn't mind not feeling. I wouldn't just appearing alright...Right now, I don't appear alright...I appear good enough. Good enough isn't.