I've heard it before.

But it's not that simple.
Tell me how to fix it.
Tell me how to make it better now.
Because I've thought of ways to possibly fix things in time.
Long amounts of time.
Years.
But what am I going to do tomorrow?
What am I going to do?
Everyone already thinks what they think.
And how can I possibly get anywhere
when everyone has already made up their minds about me?
And every chance I get to ask for what I want,
I am silent.
Because I am shocked.
That everyone I talk to has decided that I am less.
And I expect it, but I never know how to react.

I think,
that none of this will last.
Someday I will be far away.
And you won't know me anymore.
All of this will become a cloudy memory.
I don't know if it's sad because I'll miss you,
Or because I'll look back and think of how trapped and wasted I was.
It's a shame I ever had to feel this way.