for the sick and for the tired

I am so tired. 
Those words were typed with as much emphasis as my fingers could possibly press for you.

I am so tired of shaving my legs.
I am tired of my hair. These tangles are exhausting me. The ringlets, tiring me.
I am so tired of clothes. It's so hard for me to want to get dressed these mornings. Want to put anything on at all.
I am sick of my body. Every limb.
Most nights I spend lying in the dark on my bed, watching the upside down moon through my window. Those nights I wish I could detach my limbs from me, one by one by one by one. Erasing, beginning at my toes, tickling up my legs, crawling over my thighs, numbing my waist and everything above... Because maybe it would release the tension at my joints.

Let me complain to you. Pleeease. Because all this time, I've been what you've wanted me to be. The Happy One.

I am exhausted with The Fakers. I am tired of the people who secretly hate me. The ones who are mad at me when I succeed. Why are you still around?? Why are you still here if you hate to be with me?? If it makes you sick to see me be loved? Even brats like me need to be loved.
Maybe I am the most exciting thing you've got? Maybe it's because I know a bit about love and I have big secrets? I won't be mad, have you're own adventures. I won't be green. I won't be jealous one bit. I will be extremely happy.

"What are 'friends' really? Just, just define friends for me, please." I asked. But he couldn't. "Exactly."

I am here to please you, my pretties. I am only here to be what I always have been. The Happy One.
But, tell me, how far does "just be your self" go? I really want you to tell me, because I don't know anymore. Because I am so confused sometimes.

I wonder sometimes how much I would hurt, how much I would lose, if I were to just "be my self" for the first time...

It's not that I like the silence, it's just that we've had so much time to say all that we could ever say.

I am so tired.