clay.

i dont know how to open up to others and I'm scared i never will. like if i truly open my doors to someone they'll get too scared of me or get grossed out and leave me. i didnt even want to talk to my own therapist about my shit. i cant even talk in family therapy. but even when i do my words get treated like nothing. like im nothing. because no one treated me seriously with what i felt, because im just a stupid kid, and that i dont know what im talking about. im not getting taken seriously when i do open up. but im too scared to. i dont want to be judged over and over again by just telling others what i actually feel. they say that i can tell them whatever, but when i do, i get yelled at. i get in trouble for opening up, like they told me to do. ive had to build a literal mask to hide myself from my own family and friends, because ive never had the chance to really open up about myself. like i have to make up a whole other person just to keep people around me and to like me. i open up to others and i just get weird looks and get brushed off as some weird girl again. who i am as a whole gets judged by everyone.

Can my existence be seen as an art instead of an inconvenience to others? why must i be placed in a labeled box for trying to be myself? can i express myself and not worry about others spewing hate all over me? im sick of hiding huge parts of myself. but nothing allows me to be the person i really am. i get punished for trying to be my own person. i want to open myself up for once. but i cant. my own family gets disgusted by my own opinions, that i have to believe in their same beliefs, their ways of life, and im like forbidden to think for myself. i hate it. i cant open up for shit.

i cant keep myself hidden like this, but it feels like i have no place to do so. ive been trapped like this for years, and no one takes me seriously because of it.

i hate covering myself up

and it feels like i cant break out of it

at all

why must i be something to sculpt and mold into something im not? my existence is nothing to shape. but others keep treating me like I'm a piece of clay. to squish and bend and form into whatever THEY want. what THEY perceive is best for me, and they don't give me a chance to breathe. being sculpted for everyone else to look at and enjoy and then being scrapped as trash. becoming what everyone has seen me. a lump of clay.