Ask me how I feel, and this is what I'd say.
MY SOCIAL MEDIAS
business email: [email protected]
facebook: rylee louisa prenatt
The Story of the Girl who Shaved Her Head and Bleached Her Hair.
I get asked almost daily on my reason behind
Shaving my head
Bleaching my hair
How you know that tattoo’s last forever
you realize your stomach is showing, right?
Told, I shouldn’t be so opinionated,
How it’s not looked at as passionate.
felt as if my opinions don’t matter to anyone anymore
So I feel as if I should just stay in my locked up bed
under my comforting sheets
waiting for someone to act as if they need me in this world to no prevail.
I stare at my ceiling because it too, isn’t recognized.
I stop sharing my life on social media because no one seems to care.
And no one seems to notice that I am not there.
I sit inside my empty room typing away and screaming at my laptop
as I say what I feel
and that no one notices my deadly thoughts
because they don't realize how their words are just as deadly.
I tell my story to a boy and cry.
I’m told I need help because these feelings aren’t good but,
People tell me every single day that I’m not good.
So what’s the truth?
Should I stay hidden away or go out and share who I am with an ungrateful world or,
My passions seem to be wrong and what makes me happy and me and fills me with joy every single time, is so so wrong.
If I am wrong I don’t want to be right.
I don’t want to be looked at and told that I look more beautiful without paint on my face,
I don’t wear it because I’m insecure,
I wear it because I like to be an artist.
Express yourself, Rylee.
Be yourself, Rylee.
But be modest and stay in your space,
Don’t give boys a reason to look at you up and down,
That’s your duty and turn around when he calls you pretty
Even though you told him to stop
Even though you are in the clothes you went to sleep in,
It’s a “compliment.”
I’m scared of being touched by a boy that isn’t mine.
I can’t go in public without mine beside me,
because I’m too scared to sit in a crowded movie theatre by a stranger.
Not to be rude but,
I will never know what to do.
I wear black because some days I don’t want to be noticed
Others its just the color I am feeling inside my empty soul.
Not to be deep,
Colors attract attention
And although you think that I always want attention,
I’m scared of the wrong attention.
The person who told me to cover up and dye my hair back to brown and how you like my hair longer because it’s more “natural”, well,
I don’t care what you have to say,
But I thought you were someone I could look up to and pray you wouldn’t judge my outward appearance like the rest of them,
But you do.
for four years I tried starving myself so I could become so small that no one would notice my dead body there in the corner.
How, for almost a year no one told me I was beautiful, and that’s not what killed me.
It was the times over and over again,
I was told countless amounts that I needed to put more clothes on over my dead body and I literally wanted to die.
Going home throwing all my clothes away and cried.
Finding that ocd would help me keep my clothes in place on my dead body helped.
Depression takes the cake.
Because most people didn’t notice my pain.
Because people notice I guess,
When you lose 30 pounds in 120 days.
My brain stopped getting oxygen just because it was told it was being fake so,
I emptied out my thoughts on a blank slate,
Wanted to die.
Over and over and over again
No one was there and I just needed a friend,
So depression became that friend that I needed the most
And was there and told me that you are okay when you’re alone.
I pushed everyone away and was told,
That it was okay.
So here I am today,
Telling you to leave me alone with your nasty words of hate,
I know you think you’re “looking out for me” and “helping me”,
Because you are.
You’re creating a hole that is hard to get out of,
And I don’t want that.
You mine as well tell me to go and kill myself,
Because that is what you are saying.
Not just to me,
But the other girls whose lives you are changing even though it was a small comment on their Facebook page.
I don’t care who you are,
But you need to stop labeling us as
Anything other than beautiful.
Because words can kill.
Maybe you’re right
its because we are sensitive.
Maybe we are sensitive because are bodies are tired of being stabbed.
Over and over and over again.
I refuse to be called anything other than who I am.