See

See, just because you don't say it to my face doesn't mean that I don't know what you said. Doesn't mean that I don't hear your voice echoing through my head. Scathing comments are enough to break any pretty girl's heart. But like you said, it shouldn't be a problem for me. Because in that fashion, I don't really stand out. I don't meet the impossible standard. I haven't got the clean, pristine, and luscious red blood to qualify.

And if I walk tall, you tell them all it's because I'm 'too good to be real' to anyone other than myself. And if I act small, as I feel on some days, you say, 'Look -- that girl has finally learned her place.' So. So. I've decided not to care. I've tried so hard not to care. And yet I do. I've cried silent tears, of which you are the cause. You won't see them though; I've learn to hide them well. Even when I fell and you laughed.

You couldn't let a sorry thing go. Couldn't even let me fade into the background. Had to bring me forward and call attention to the obvious failure of society. A disappointment to the community -- because I had been let in. And you were surprised when I became angry. When I reacted, you thought I didn't have the right.

I cry at night because I am starting to feel you are better. And I know I shouldn't let you, let you put me down. Take the golden circlet from my neck; it was only thin. It was only plain. It was only the good reputation that I'd earned after so long and tried so hard to gain. It was all I had, it wasn't much but to myself. And yet, you took it away. Seemingly without effort.

And if you tell me now that you were "just fooling around," I don't think I can believe you. I think that somewhere deep in your mind, you really did want to see me dead. You wanted my head to hit the ground with a sickening crack. For my dirty, filthy blood to pool and congeal on the hard cold stone floor. Just another sprawled corpse -- nothing special about it.

And I can't help it if that was true -- that you were so determined not to like me because I wasn't like you. Now I'm sorry to say that I wish I had earned your respect. Maybe then you would let the insults rest. I know that it's impossible now to regret what could not have been done in any way shape or form. There's nothing I can say or do that could make anyone else feel as bad as you make me do. See? You got what you wanted. Effort rewarded, sunshine, I've got damn near no dignity left.

Appealing to humanity's better grace won't do me any good. You aren't human. Or maybe you are, and I reminded you of that fact. I know you wouldn't like that. Determined to never have a weakness, you point out everyone else's. Thank you, really. I'll strive to be more. Enter the sarcasm here.

You have to be unassailable, after all; you have to be the one that stands tall because you were born that way. Born righteous. Born better than I. Born out of gold and silver, not dirt and false gilder. That's what you see when you look at me. A pretender. A false alter to an even falser idol. You see nothing at all that's real. You see some sort of illusion and never see past the glamour...you, who preach of values, lack the integrity it takes to see a person for who they are.