I can change my hair,
pile myself with make-up,
dress up day-after-day,
gain weigh, lose weigh,
but in the end, to you,
is it what's inside that counts?
i wonder.
i can lose myself in heart-pounding music,
eat and binge on alcohol,
call you and text you,
but in the end, to you,
won't i be just a strange little kid vying for attention?
the irony of the situation is that you are the real kid,
not me.
so perhaps whatever I do is to try to get to you.
Alas, you don't see it.
you never do.
