Leanne | ongoing

013

dear diary

if the neighbours across the street watched my bedroom window... how many times would they have seen me come into my room, my face crumpling as i start crying?

if my parents had simply asked how i slept... how many times would i have told them, "barely at all"?

if my siblings had stopped to think how much their comments and gestures pained me... how much silence would abound?

if my friends knew... if they looked... they would see a broken girl.

not the good one.

the broken, crying, emotional one.

because even though i'm supposed to have matured and grown in my control of emotions... i still go to my bedroom and cry every week.

how is this growing up? 

why is everything so painful?

it takes one comment from someone, or a glance in the mirror at the mall, or a look from a stranger, and i feel like crumbling to pieces.

with much love,

leanne