F The Haters

I can feel their eyes on me, as I walk up to the front of the room. I feel their thoughts judging me, I can almost hear their voices. What does she think she's doing, exactly? Who does she think she is?

I pretend I can't. I pretend I don't know what they say about me, what they think about me. It's easier to pretend I don't care than to actually not care.

Honestly, it hurts. Every word, every thought leaves a scar. No one really understands when I say that. It even hurts to pretend that I don't care.

On the surface I say that I don't care. I make sure my smile is plastered on and take my next step. Acting like nothing affects me, pretending I'm stronger than I am, wishing all my pretence was true. Wishing I wasn't just a scared little girl who was afraid to be judged. Wishing all the rumours made me laugh and not want to cry.

Someday though, I hope I show them. Show the haters and the sceptics that I'm stronger than I knew, that I'm so much better than what they thought I was. Someday, I hope I get better at this, better at not caring about the judgemental faces and voices. Until then though, I keep pretending. I keep hurting, hoping that one day, all these scars will amount to more, that I'd walk out of their line of fire unscathed, with a smile on my face that comes from within and isn't stuck on or faked. Until that day, however, I pretend.

For now though, I'm just happy I make you happy.