Trace Me

Trace me like the girl in my mind. The one who is perfect, never a strand of hair out of line. She is so smiley and bubbly without even trying and attracts people to her like a friendly magnet, if I said I didn’t want to be her I’d be lying. The girl who is desired by all with no enemies just waiting for her to trip and fall. Trace me like the girl in my dreams. Who always seems to keep calm like the sea. She is so perfect it makes my skin crawl with jealousy, yet somehow she is still everything I want to be. Work miracles or something please because I can no longer sleep. I am forever waiting for this perfect version of me that I will soon cease to believe. Trace me as you see me. I heard it’s pretty great. Not even a fraction of the pain I feel when I look in the mirror at the fake me with her mask of strange desires. It pains me to think of the hate I feel for my own reflection. So matter of fact don’t trace me… just paint. Paint me like the image of perfection. I am well aware I don't embody it. But, please… just help me gain a sense of love for me. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but when I am given the opportunity to find a better mindset, I’m often the first to hit snooze. It’s not that I don’t want to be better. Surely I do. I just can’t seem to get myself out of the hole I have dug to bury my shattered soul. I truly do want to be better, but I can’t seem to fix was has already broken inside of me. I have tried to glue the pieces back together, yet I seem to be missing a few pieces. The pieces that left with the reason for their detachment from my shattered sense of self. I pray to whatever god is out there for help, but it seems they're all out on call. I bawl myself to sleep to hide what creeps up in the dead of night. No longer will I hide from the loneliness inside. I will try to be better. Try to find the time. I will try to be the twisted reality everyone thinks I am living or die.