Exhale

My life used to be one full of panic. I used to panic every time I spoke aloud, And panic when I didn’t get a reply right away. I would panic when the silences got too long, And I would panic whenever anyone asked me about myself Because the answer might not be what they wanted to hear. I would panic when I was left alone, Afraid no one would ever come back. I exerted all my energy trying to please them. I would make sure I knew what they liked, So I could be a person they would like. I would feed them compliments, And take any critique without a word. I would dress the way I thought they wanted me to dress, And act the way I thought they wanted me to act, And I would spend every second giving them what I wanted for myself. A perfect friend. But I was miserable. There were people all around and I was lonely. I hated myself, The way I looked, the way I talked, The person I was. I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. Having other people like me hadn’t made me happy at all, Especially when it wasn’t me they liked. It was the person I was pretending to be. And then I moved. And I met new friends. At first, I tried to do what I’d done before. I tried to mold myself into the person I thought they wanted me to be. But then I realized They didn’t care. Even if I liked or did or said something that they didn’t agree with, They were still my friends. So I took a deep breath, And I let out the person I’d been holding in. I told them about what I liked to do and shared things I’d never shared before. I let myself feel, and show what I was feeling, So they knew when I was happy and when I was sad, And could be happy for me or make me feel better. I let them in. I stopped hiding behind fake smiles and kind lies. I told them what I thought, And in return they told me, And if we disagreed, I argued with them. But they still liked me. I found myself smiling more. I came to terms with myself, And I suddenly loved who I was, And what I did, And how I looked. I loved my friends too. In the end, I realized most people aren’t looking for perfection. They just want someone to talk to, And laugh with, And cry with. At the end of the day, We’re all a little messed up, But at least we have each other.