No one wants to hear my story. Everyone wants to hear the sob story that keeps people crying. They want to have something to cry about, something to tell people that "it will get better". They want to see people who make it to the line, pass the line. They want people broken by society's rules. They want to see the wounds, the scars. So every time I try to tell my story, it's nudged off. Someone has the better story. Someone ALWAYS has the better story. What makes my pain less than someone who cuts to feel? What makes my struggle inferior? Why does the white girl, who has no sexual preference yet, who has never been physically harmed... why is she lesser?
I just need to write it down, get it all set. You spend years with it inside you, unable to express it. Not in the real way at least. I've never been able to tell the story without exaggerating, or adding something unreal. No one wants to hear the story of the girl that gave up. Gave up the struggle and changed for the better... But w