From someone's pov:

i'm not contented on what i have— i always envy others on what they had glitter sparkling on their make-up, shiny things — their luxury bags, newly bought elegant dresses expensive sh'ts and their braces— they move and act perfectly fine, and i wonder can i do mine? i tried to be one of them but i an't fit, copying others not so unique. the longer i do it, the longer i'm lost, to this unending loop— i jump across. I copied their identity as much as i lost mine, suddenly nowhere, now i can't define. to this cycle i can't compare, how long i've been lost, hiding somewhere.