What do you see when you look at me? A spoilt girl who claims to not have all the things she apparently does have? It's not romantic at all-- breaking hearts and getting yours broken, so quit telling me it could be. I'm tired of placing my heart in palms too small to hold it. You'd rarely see my eyes dry, perhaps this is why when you ask me to put on mascara, I do not. You choose to remember me tight-lipped, not meeting your eyes, cold silence but you forget I'm still kind to people I despise and I'd listen to you even when I have nothing more to say to you. We're all dying slowly and we're all hurting. Why do you refuse to admit it? Sometimes it takes a fall, sometimes several to know who you are. I'm still learning even after abandoned, I'm not alone-- I've got myself. When I speak, I listen. When I do something, I see. When I smile in the mirror, I smile back. We laugh together, we cry together. My talent doesn't mean the absence of yours. Your insecurities and selfishness are consuming you and everyone around you, don't you see? Don't you see I've already lost a limb to it, perhaps my heart was attached to it, perhaps I pulled it back a second before. I bet you do not know. How can you, with all of you around you?