For a Little Cupcake

I am another faceless teenage girl, writing poorly and shoving it down the throats of strangers, giving them the burden of fixing me. There is not one original thing about me. And that's the truth. But how do I tell you that? How can I look into your innocent hazel eyes, and tell you "You will never amount to anything." 

It's hard enough to admit to the me of now, how am I going to bring myself to tell the me of long ago? Back when I was happy and normal. When my spirit was as unstoppable as the wind. You're proud little girl sporting bangs that always split in the middle, and a crooked baby toothed smile. You spend Fridays with the two people who love you most, running around outside and eating Cheeto puffs.

But today?

I am broken and fragile. A shut-in, a loser, completely detached from society. I have lost myself. In frowns, and panic attacks, and questionable sanity. I fully understand the term "emotinally drained" and am a frequent visitor of "BummingTown". 

I wish I could tell you one thing to make it better. One thing that will fix things for the both of us. Be more outgoing. Buy those clothes and wear that make-up. Read less, socialize more. I cannot instruct you to not be you. Who am I kidding, being you will be a tragedy. It's your demise. You are traveling down a path of failure towards a destination of depression. That's awful, but its who you are. 

Sure, one day you will suddenly realize you are a nocturnal recluse with zero friends, watching Bones re-runs all night and listening your to empty thoughts bounce around your skull. The truth hurts kiddo. I can't tell you things get better, because they haven't and they won't.

Perhaps by the time you get this, I can report back at how I fixed everything. Maybe I'll be happy and going somewhere with my life. I won't be where I'm expected to be. Lonely and broken, contemplating how to end it all. But I don't know if I'm ready to take that chance tonight.

Once I tell you these truths, I can never take them back. I can't tell you these things today. So I write this for the me of yesterday, hoping that somewhere along the lines, we get the courage to say what needs to be said.

Good luck,
                Miss Cupcake (2015)