17th Birthday

I'm just the girl who's life is fucked up. The girl who gets sexualized at 16 because she's just gotten so used to it she doesn't care. Wearing the clothes she likes while people's eyes wonder and think what lies beneath them. The girl who let's it happen because the only attention she receives that makes her feels liked. Her parents too busy with the sibling who was born that way. Taught to smile and grow up on her own. The independent girl who's too afraid to ask for help because she was taught that the help was never to arrive. The girl who doesn't talk at family events on her dad's side because she's just the quiet girl with the autistic brother who can never come. The girl who's quiet but has a million thoughts and ideas behind her eyes but was never taught how to communicate them. The girl who even her own mother doesn't have the right words to say. The silence has become the embrace she craves, the attention she seeks, the end to the pain. Comfort in nothing, comfort in her own being that even she cannot understand. She's tired the room is silent, no one there to sing, no one there to smile, no one there as she blows out the candle on her 17th birthday. Happy birthday to the girl who's life is fucked up