I am tired.
I am tired of being left in this bleak wooden box, craving the sunlight on my eyelids and the feel of it’s warmth on my skin.
I am tired of this façade, tired of playing my games and wishing upon crimson stars.
I am tired of the imperfection that surrounds me; I crave the attention I so richly deserve, the attention that was promised to me all those years before.
I am tired of pipe dreams, and false memories…
I am tired of hating the man I call father, I am tired of not caring about him and the things he thinks about me.
I am tired.
I am tired of being left out of the conversations about me, knowing every word spilt from their lips is poison.
I am tired of being styled, manipulated into the subservient ‘good child’ of this corrupted world we live in.
I am tired of being praised for the small things I do in a day, tired of being told I am an amazing person when I am but a human being.
I am tired of being shown that life is black and white when there is no black or white; there is nothing but gray.