I am tired of people who meet me, and then tell my friends that they like me because I'm quirky, or sharp, or smart, or bright, or the multitude of sweet nothings people throw at me.

I'm tired of being objectified and reduced into something I'm not.

Yes, I'm smart. I'm funny. I love making people laugh. I've always been childish and cheeky and I think eighteen's too young to change that. I have a weird way of looking at things and I have a wicked sense of humour.

It's an act. Of course it's an act. It's the most genuine, sincere, fulfilling performance of my life, but I can't keep it up, all the time. Do you have any idea how I feel when you stop talking because I stop cracking jokes, for a heartbeat, just to catch my breath? I'm glad you enjoy the things I can do, but I'm not here for your entertainment.

There are times when I am in so much pain that I lash out blindly, and the people closest to me will get hurt. I'm rude and selfish and dumb in the way that most eighteen year olds are. I'm the girl in the pretty dresses and red lipstick but sometimes I am in bloodstained sweatpants on a hospital trolley.

I love my friends and I always try to do my best by them. But sometimes I fuck up. I make mistakes. Sometimes I need space, and sometimes I need people to be there for me. I feel like people only like one side of me, and when I can't be that person I am all alone.

There are parts of me, there are things I can do, that shine like stars. But with those stars comes an endless darkness, a vast expanse of night sky, and you have to be okay with that. If I'm not worth your time, you're not worth mine.