No one told me to not grow up.
And I wish someone would have.
No one ever said I would feel insecure,
But I probably wouldn't understand,
Just how bad it feels to hate myself.

But now that I'm growing up,
I am one of the ones who understand,
How it feels to look in the mirror,
And pick myself apart,
Until I want to kill myself.

Everything's so different.
Now I walk through lonely halls.
Where everyone turns to see me.
To scoff at my differences,
And make me feel bad about myself.

When I get back home,
I tell my family I had a good day,
Because I don't want them to worry.
There's nothing to worry about.
I just hate myself.

And as I take off my clothes,
I see every little flaw.
The fat, the scars, the lines,
And I wonder how anyone could love
Someone who hates herself.