They want you to be happy, to dance and sing. They want you to be fun. They don’t want you, they want entertainment. But when the veil falls and they spy what’s beneith the mask, they turn on you.

No one wants imperfection; and you my dear, are imperfect. You feel too much, you love too hard, and you hurt to the depths of your soul. They can’t handle you; they don’t want you.

They blame you! You can’t find the light and it’s your own fault. Find the beauty they say, but all you see are shadows. Think happy thoughts, they blow sunshine up your ass, and you are just supposed to smile and take it.

No one understands; no one sees you. You’re invisible.

Tina Civil Unrest

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