i wish i knew

myself.

don't we all wish the same?

it's almost like a masquerade;

every day we wake up, look in the mirror, and sigh at why we're still the same person we were yesterday

then while we curse at how our ugliness hasn't changed one bit, we slap on the perfect face, the "this is the face i want people to think i have" face

and then we walk around the rest of our lives broadcasting the lies we call the best version of ourselves

but we forget

that when we lay in our graves, it isn't with the rosy cheeks and porcelain skin we blinded ourselves with

and i want to know her who lies under all that:

the hysterical, uncontrollable emo who's perhaps a little too dangerously band-obsessed

the innocent child who pretends know everything about every trend and phase so she can fit in with people she doesn't know

the girl who relies on unhealthy, barely existent sleep patterns and mellowed caffeine so she can tell people how hardcore she is

the cracked, flawed, imperfect human who's trapped under this mess of facades

i want to know her,

and i want to love her

because my heart knows she's just as beautiful as the person she wants to be,

just that my mind hasn't woken up yet