“Be yourself”. Two words that sound so simple, yet they aren’t. They can lead to a world of doubt and physical and mental pain. So at the end of the day, is it really worth it? Is it worth all the dirty looks? Is it worth all the whispers that are meant to be silent, but you hear anyway? Is it worth all the insults that pierce your skin and tattoo your body forever? Is it worth it all to “be yourself”?

Now, I don’t want your pity. But I do want you to know that words hurt, sometimes more than a punch in the face because they build. Each insult and rude comments builds and builds, becoming heavier each and every day.

Then you snap.
You become a different person because you can’t handle it anymore. You can’t handle all the stupid comments about how “fat” you are, or how “nobody likes you”, or how “you should just die, its not like anyone will miss you”. You put up walls to protect yourself, to stop all the bullets that drain you of the will to go on.
But then it gets worse.
The insults start to become sharper, as if you haven’t had enough already. Now others tell you “how you’ve changed” or how “fake” you are because you can no longer take it. They don’t understand that you are hanging on one thread of hope; hope that it will get better and hope that someone will see the pain you are going through and want to stop it. But that thread is then cut, by those who just don’t seem to like you.
And each and every day you ask yourself, “why me?” or “what did I do to deserve this”? But you never find an answer.

So then you start to listen. You start to listen to all the lies people tell you. And you start to believe them, because that’s all you hear.

You start hating yourself and all the parts that make you you. The funny part is that these things never bothered you before, but once you notice one flaw, it’s over. The waves just jeep coming and you’re trying to catch your breath, but you can’t.

Then you start to change yourself even more. You start dressing differently and acting differently, as if to make your walls stronger to block out the waves from drowning you.

Then you go to a new school, a small school where not many people know you. That’s when you feel love. Instead of having insults thrown in your face as you walk through the hallways, you get complements and smiles. Someone tells you that the like your shirt and your face lights up as if you were a child on Christmas.
Now you ask me why I dye my hair and get piercings. It’s to maintain a stone-cold image; but if you actually take the time to get to know me, you’ll see that sometimes looks can be deceiving.

I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, for I have come to terms with my past. I want you to know that words hurt. I want you to know that just because someone has a smile on their face, doesn’t mean they aren’t dying on the inside.

Now I only ask of you two things, think before you speak and smile. Thinking before you speak helps you realize if what you have to say is needed. If it’s going to hurt someone, even in the slightest way, then it’s not worth it, because you don’t know what else they have to deal with. And your little comment that might not faze you may cause them to snap. And once they snap, they never go back.

And lastly, smile. Your smile can make someone’s day. It sure made mine.