People are always telling me to smile, like smiling is going to just take away all the hurt and pain. Well I've tried that I've tried hiding my sorrows and covering the sadness in smiles and what I've learned is that when it hurts this much inside your heart always has a way of showing it no matter how many masks you wear.
I'm okay... isn't that what I'm suppose to say?
Nothing is more dear to them than their own suffering - they are afraid that they will lose it - They feel it, like a whip cracking over their heads, striking them and yet befriending them; it wounds them, but it also reassures them.
Someone once asked me, 'Why do you always insist on taking the hard road?' I replied, 'Why do you assume I see two roads?'
How will you know I am hurting, If you cannot see my pain? To wear it on my body Tells what words cannot explain.
To be loved to madness - such was her great desire. Love was to her the one cordial that could drive away the eating loneliness of her days.
"...occasionally I wished I could walk through a picture window and have the sharp, broken shards slash me to ribbons so I would finally look like I felt."
Let no one think I gave in.
I certainly didn't tell anyone; I didn't advertise that I was doing this, but I didn't necessarily also make sure no one could see that I was injured. In fact, I felt proud of it; I felt good about it. It was like a battle scar: it proved that I had been grievously wounded and survived. When I hid my scars, I did so because I didn't want anyone to think I was a basket case or a mental case and to look down on me or to pity me or to stop hanging out with me - leave me because they couldn't. handle me...
I smile, I smile all the time, you're just not around to see it.
How can you understand me when I can't understand myself?
You say I'm always happy, and that I'm good at what I do, but what you'll never realize is, I'm a damn good actress too.