Sitting in front of the mirror crying my eyes out, i hate seeing her looking at me with confusion and doubt. I may not be perfect, but am i really all that bad? i hate when i get so crazy, so mean and so mad. Wishing that those angry eyes would stop glaring at me. cant she see that i am only who she lets me be? She tells me i am crazy, psychotic, and fat, but who is she to talk, looking like that. she has tear streaks rolling down her face, mascara below her eyes. she acts like i'm the only one who ever cries. if only i was a better person, and better mother to my son, she'd stop acting like the devil has won. Glaring back into the mirror, wiping away those tears, i tell myself that i will be happy again, one of these years. i know as i see the reflection of myself in the glass, that i need help from someone, this feeling will not pass. i pick up the telephone and dial, please get me in now, i dont want to wait a while. sitting in the chair with tears and a frown, please help me i always feel so down. i am needing help and i am begging you, do something take it away i hate being blue. i have asked for the help, not its outa my hands, maybe now i can start making plans.
