Would you have the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me I’m perfect?
Do you think I’m just naturally that way?
That I like wearing multiples of the same sweatshirt and worn in boots
Everyday…just like everyone else?
Would you have the nerve to say there’s no pressure on me to be long, lean, and slim?
That I’m just naturally pretty because I just so happen to carry these genes?
Or that I don’t need to try to get straight A’s?
I just do because I’m naturally smart?
Because I’m just perfect…just like everyone else wants me to be?
Is this scenario just like any other corny blonde-popular-head-cheerleader teen drama?
You can say it is if you please but even those came from something that’s real.
Something that’s true.
But what would I know about what’s true?
I’m not naturally long, lean, and slim. There’s an actual reason for it.
I call it the “I’m not hungry” diet.
I don’t get straight A’s because I just am oh-so intelligent.
I actually have to work for them.
And I’m not naturally pretty. There’s an actual reason for it.
It’s called “putting on someone else’s smile because mine isn’t good enough.”
I like the way everyone knows my name. I like the way I turn heads.
But would I still be looked up to if I shed this plain-vanilla, cookie-cutter skin
And let my real self be exposed?
I don’t like these worn-in boots and sweatshirts. They’re dull and bland.
I want to wear cute, flowing dolman sleeved shirts.
I want to wear sleek, elegant high-heeled pumps.
I want to be bold and bright.
Or do I?
I don’t even know my own personality because I never had the chance to explore it.
I’ve been hiding under this mask. This perfectly-blending, insecure, fraud of a mask.
How does this mask turn heads anyway if it doesn’t even stand out?
Maybe it’s not too late to find out who I really am.
And maybe then, just maybe, I’d still have this reputation.
And maybe I’ll come to realize that he really does love me, not my mask.
But if not, you can say as many times as you want that I’ll find someone who appreciates
Me for who I am and that it’s my real friends that matter.
But it’s too late. If I hadn’t put on this mask in the first place maybe I would’ve had real
Friends and a real guy and people would’ve adored me for not being afraid to be myself.
But if people didn’t like me for who I am, I wouldn’t like me either.
Would I have the nerve to loose the mask?
No. I’m forever a fake.