humans really are ugly.

i try scream out that phrase as if it's a mantra. too bad it falls on nothing but nonexistent deaf ears—when my voice breaks past whatever barrier seems to be holding it back, of course. most of the time, the words are left as a silent rasp at the back of my throat.

it's not fair. it's not fair. nothing is fair.

why must it happen to me?

do i deserve it—?

some small, cynical part of my mind spits in my face, sneers and tells me yes. because i have nothing. i have no talents, no useful skills; nothing to stand out in this pathetic prison called life.

and, when i get questioned about how painfully average i am; about why i'm not smiling anymore and why my grades are slipping, i can't even reply with a goddamned smile. all i can do is stare back with a quiet gaze and hope that it suffices.

perhaps i had something once, but whatever it was, it's now broken and snatched from my hands and scattered across the floor. childhood radiance, at some point, can die out, and it's a wonder why no one sees that.

then they explode at me. throw words and insults as if they're mere nothings. twist their sentences around so that all of a sudden it's them that's the victim.

you're not trying hard enough. you used to be so bright, you know. i've told you this over and over again; why aren't you listening? it's not as if you're stupid—

i stopped caring about everything at some point.

the words blur together to form one messy string of incoherent slurs. they continue to mask their toxicity with an illusion of care. i continue to bite my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and play it off as a mere joke when i see others.

yet, i still seem to give a shit about what they say. i let them have their iron grip over my thoughts, like there's a collar around my throat and a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. the air becomes thick and acrid and tastes like gasoline on my tongue.

i once thought that one day, i'd be allowed to take those cursed handcuffs off. i was, as always, wrong.

when was the last time i'd done something right, honestly? something that made them smile and praise me for success that i wanted none of?

in the end, i couldn't please anyone. i let them steal away the sadness i'm not entitled to, apparently, and the unjust anger that you're not allowed to feel. all they want to see in me is happiness and ambition and drive.

they claim not to be shaping me, but all they want is someone who won't bother them. someone who isn't pathetic.

yet, it's pretty ironic. each thing they do drains whatever semblance of happiness i have. i have to settle for an aching emptiness that nags at me like hunger. the world is much less pretty when it's full of desaturated hues and a numbing feeling that nothing will change.

of course i want to improve too. of course i want a day where i'm wanted and needed and i'm every bit the perfect person they want me to be. everyone dreams of that.

it's just hard to climb up when the hollowness gnaws at you from the inside and your legs are broken from the falls you've taken. it's even harder when people choose to try and shatter them more when you try to pick yourself up.

is it that difficult to understand that sometimes, we need something else?

maybe it's just the fact that i'm weak, but i can't climb with those broken legs when i find no motivation to pull myself out of this hellhole. when i know that humans will never be satisfied and continue asking for more.

i'm alone. no one's there to pull me up. no one would go near a broken bird in the first place.

i don't even have the right to ask for a knife to plunge into my throat.

humans really are ugly.