Its all wrong.

It’s the crippling loneliness that holds me back
Choking me at every breath, a vice so suffocating I stifle
And wither,
It’s the little things that keep me back,
The whispers I believe to be, the sniggers I suspect are mine,
The things that try to drag me on,
In all their disguise and disbelief,
Do nothing but give me a reason to hide it a little deeper
To smile a little harder,
To cry a little more.

It’s the mask in the morning,
The act I put on, with a costume and a character,
I’m a regular actor,
With my mask fixed and smiling,
So they never see it slip,
So they never see the pain,
So they never see what’s really going on.
I wear a mask each morning,
To show that I am fine,
Although inside I’m all wrong,
I’m all wrong on the inside.

It’s the thoughts I cram into my head,
To stop the voice that’s there
Always there,
Telling me I’m too fat, too boring, too ugly
Too stupid, too needy, too desperate,
Too geeky, too mean, too loud,
Too quiet, too unhealthy, too empty, too full
Too messy, too tidy, too hungry for approval,
Too bland, too compulsive, too fearful,
Too lame, too smiley, too odd, too normal,
Too self obsessed.
And I block it out for a second and I’m left with nothing in my head.
Nothing to stop the voice.
So it starts all over again.