They
May 3, 2019•242 words
They say you should buy this new thing, then they will think you’re cool.
They will think you’re ugly if you don’t have six-pack abs, tanned skin, and toned muscles.
They don’t want you to speak up, otherwise you’ll make things awkward for others.
They don’t want you to be nice to that person because they look different than the rest of us.
They will say that big person nearby is going to hurt you, so don’t trust them.
They are all gonna laugh at you.
They will think that personal, handmade accessory you created is horrible.
They will call you a loser because you believe in something most people don’t.
They will look at you funny if you act like your real, genuine self.
They don’t know you.
They don’t care about you.
They will never change their mind, no matter what you say to them.
They are close-minded.
They are mean.
They don’t like anyone.
They don’t know the struggles you contend with on a daily basis.
They don’t care about the hard work you do every day.
They don’t know just how funny your sense of humor actually is.
They don’t know just how much you have to offer someone.
They don’t see how genuinely nice you are deep down.
They don’t see just how lovable you are.
They don’t know that you are beautiful on the inside. And on the outside.
Who are they, anyway?
They don’t matter.