Broken dreams, shattered heart

"Reach for the stars," they said

But how could she when there were rules to follow?

Order. Obedience.

 

They told her it was for her own good.

Their dreams were her dreams.

There is no such thing as "my will, my dream."

Stupid. Selfish.

 

Everyone looked at her, called her a perfectionist

But how could she be anything less

If that's what they made her to be?

Fractured. Frightened.

 

Set on such a high pedestal

That when she fell, she didn't just fall. No,

She crashed with all that force and pressure upon her weakened shoulders.

Light-headed. Lonesome.

 

Yet somewhere, deep down, she wonders:

Isn't this what I want? Don't I want to be perfect in every way?

She doesn't know what she wants, or where she's heading.

Exhausted. Embarrassed.

 

Boldly, she takes on the "A student" persona.

Secretly, she wishes she didn't have to.

I wish I didn't have to.

Annoying. Agonizing.