Who I Am (A poem of how I really feel)

How exactly can I explain that I'm not happy?

To the world outside I smile,

Yet frown in the comfort of my room,

When everything looks to be alright,

But in fact nothing ever feels okay.

Smiling takes so much out of a person;

It's like an exhausting mental sport,

And I continue to run laps,

Always bearing the pain it gives me.

Who is it then, that I share my struggles with?

Looking past the self-deprecating jokes,

Not to mention the struggles with interaction,

These troublesome issues remain,

Never shared, and never released.

The embarrassment of mankind;

A title reserved for the lowest of lows,

Yet the highest of highs,

And seemingly perfect for me.

Why should my parents know my thoughts?

It's not their problem to deal with,

Nor will it ever be their problem,

For acting has become ingrained into me,

And I wish to keep those words locked inside.

I play the part of a puppet;

Pulled apart by the strings that guide me,

Mislead and torn to shreds over simple words,

Forever at a constant war with freedom.

What happened to the innocence I carried?

Small butterflies flying in peace,

Yet burning relationships with each move,

Holding the weight of multiple burderns,

Always on the move, always stuck in place.

Thinking is too overwhelming;

Nothing seems to go right,

Too much planning and expectations,

It makes one conscious of decisions.

Where did my beautiful reflection go?

For how long will it remain hiding,

Deep below the surface of the growing cracks,

For all that shows are the blemishes on my skin,

And all the horrible mistakes.

Ugly is a strong word to describe something;

It's not how I'd describe myself,

Yet when beauty is to be flawless,

It's a challenge to see past that atrocious word.

When is it that I will learn to accept who I am?

That time seems so close in solitude,

A mystery during the early morning hours,

Far from reach throughout the day,

And a question unanswered for months on end.

I am sadly human;

A word that means nothing more than useless,

To be thrown around, talked down to,

Forever trapped in a caged mind.

For what reason do I exist?

A question many ask quite often,

However, I've given up on thinking of an answer,

Waiting for time to pass slowly,

Offering a chance to hear one from life.

Who I am is not important;

A student that struggles, despite loving parents,

A fragile heart with no room to spread wings,

A person that believes everyone deserves love.