I only pick myself up because I can't risk letting them down.
Whether they see me or not.
And if they don't see me, I do it for the eyes around me.
So I don't feel so feeble.
Because I'm more capable than I look.
To be taken seriously, well.
That's near impossible for a 5'3 girl.
Who's a woman that has lived year's of survival.
Dodged death a few times.
Cried in silence and smiled when leaving the quiet shadows.

I know I'm someone to look at and point out every little flaw.
Small and kind is what I show.
But that's not at all who I am inside.

Memories haunt me every second of the day but I use them.
I pound them into my thoughts and contort them until I don't fear them anymore.
I want them.

Learning to shove away the faces that concern me.
Striving to run further from the dread of my next battle.
Embracing whatever scars I pick up along the way.

Is that not what makes someone hard? In a way yes.
But it's more like this.

Being buried deeper than your rock bottom and digging yourself out.
Taking hits in places that were already hurting but figuring out how to take the blows bravely.
Watching in the background as the petty drama swirls around trying to distract you.
You're going to be ignored. Thank god.
You're going to hate yourself and they'll hate you too. But it should make you thirstier to show up whatever the reason.
I pasted smiles on my face until I realized I preferred not to.
Quietness is a luxury.
Shh...
Don't ever take it for granted.