What I see

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When I look at you, I see a human.

I see a human, breathing but not really,

holding back tears discreetly.

I see a human who has had to deal 

with so much more than anyone deserves.

I see someone who wants a person to reach out,

someone radiating please, notice me, help me.

I see someone who wants help

but can't ask for it, 

can't risk someone looking at you differently.

I see someone like me.


When Mom looks at me, she sees a human.

That human is breathing and alive.

She sees my face when she looks at me.


When I look in the mirror, I see someone broken.

I see someone who is breathing 

but wishes that isn't the case.

I see someone who is confused 

but would never admit it.

I see someone who is haunted

by the deaths of her friends.

When I look in the mirror, I see a girl.

I see someone trying to be a person

she is not and never will be.

I see someone who fakes it. Fakes it all.

I see someone pathetic, worthless,

who has fought for too long.

I see someone with a plan.

I see someone resigned to her fate,

who just wants this pain to end.

I also see someone who lies to themself

to make them feel worse.

I see someone who has a mental illness

that no one has named.

I see someone who goes up and down

and can't anymore.

I see someone breathing but decaying.

I see someone who has given up.

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