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Dear You

Dear you,

Please stop. Yes you. It’s hard enough as it is.

You the one that jokes around. Why? Why even pay attention to me if inside you don’t really know me? You allow yourself to make me feel bad. Me, trying to be myself and not pay attention to anything you say. It seems like I don’t care, that it doesn’t really affect me. I try to act strong in front of your jokes. Try to look happy even if I’m not. It’s hard to act all the time. I don’t want you to think you won. I’m tired.

I don’t care. But I do. Very confusing, right? Please. I don’t need this bullshit. I think I’ve had enough. Life is hard as it is, without you acting like a fool. I may not be very smart, but I still understand. Or at least I try to. You mock me because I try. I try to learn and get knowledge. You may be smarter, have more control over your life and on the people that surround you. I’m jealous. But not so much. You live for others, for your “friends”. I live for myself.

I know something that you don’t. Or at least I think that I know. I have friends. Two of them to be correct. Two that stand up for me. Or at least try. That are here for me when I cry. They listen, and even try to give advice… I always thought it wasn’t enough. I tried to please everyone, but it’s hard.

Two is enough, and I wouldn’t dream for more. I know, or maybe I just hope, that I will keep them for a very long time. You. You have so much. Who will really be there for you after all this? They seem like the best you can ever have. But I hope for you that they will change, that you will change. I feel that having friends that help you bring down one specific person, someone weak at the moment, aren’t good friends. But how would I know right?

You are not the only one, don’t worry. I’m talking to all of you. The people surrounding me. The people who dare say that I’m not good enough, I’m too much of a child, I’m too naive or even, that just I don’t understand you and what you are trying to tell me.

You, laughing from the window. Looking at me with that mock. Watching my every move. Trying to find something to criticise, something to hold against me, something to make me feel worse.

Please, don’t pity me even more than you do. I need you to stop, to forget me. This is not a cry for help. These few words are no Thirteen Reasons Why . I want to grow up, to have fun, to get the hell away from here, from you. We don’t have that much more time together, so please just leave me be.

I wish you all the best,


Tu sais qui je suis.