I am made up of fractions.
Dangerous foundations that. whenever shaken,
Rocks me to my very core.
There are, of course, the good parts:
Like my endless sympathy and compassion for friends.
My pleasant demeanor gets the most praise,
And I often get told my smile is infectious.
But what everyone fails to see
Is that these things aren't even a fraction of who I’m supposed to be.
For just outside my happiness lurks depression,
And hiding behind boundless kindness is a fiery anger.
I have come to know these as the parts of me that are undesirable.
Metaphorical cracks in an otherwise flawless image
Of what I learned to be a kind-hearted person.
I want nothing more than to be like what I see...
But ignoring such things begin to take their toll.
And I tire of pretending that such feelings aren’t harbored in my soul.
However, it seems like whenever I decide to show these emotions,
The times I hope for emotional support in fear of a crash,
Is when I get the most backlash.
Friends seem to keep their distance when I’m frustrated,
And worry when I’m quiet to avoid tears.
I don’t want either of these things.
So I often push these feeling aside,
Never allowing them to show through until I am alone.
But deep down I know this isn’t right.
If anything, I wish I could be more emotional around my friends.
To get compassion and comfort when sad,
And to get a level-head once more when I get mad.
To feel like and be seen as a whole person with nothing to hide
Is the only thing I want from this life.
But until that day, when I can truly understand what brings on these feelings,
And have this reason be understood by others,
My perception will still be the way it is:
Insecure, worried, and lined with cracks.