Quassatas

" You're beautiful "

I almost cringed when  he says that. What does he think I am? A five years old? He thinks by just calling me beautiful, my fucking self confidence will boost up high to 100? What does he think he is? He thinks by calling me beautiful, he owns my heart? My soul? My life?

" You've done a wonderful job "

I almost laugh when she says that. Wonderful job? Really? Ha. She thinks she's the only one capable of being sarcastic. Had I known better, I would actually think that she's being serious. It's funny how she forgot that I own the sarcasms world.

" You will be okay. "

I rolled my eyes when they say that. Me? Okay? As if. It's hilarious how they think that by saying it, I will be okay. They never knew my real pain, let alone my cries at the middle of the night.

" The scars will fade "

And then I broke down. The tears I held back so long decided to slip out. You can talk about everything to me, yet you choose to say that. You choose my past because you know it haunts me down. You know I'm dying and you don't even care.

But then, I realize.

I'm not okay and it's okay.
I might be damaged and it's okay.

I don't need people's opinion to stay alive. I don't need people's laugh to keep myself together. I'm whole on my own. I can be complete on my own. I'm me and people's judgement doesn't matter.

I own myself so that means I own my leaving.

There were scars on my body and it's beautiful. It shows how brave I am. How fearless I am. People might think it's weird and I honestly couldn't care less.

I'm beautiful just in my own way

I have scars. I have a painful past. I have an ugly face. I have my own history of life.

I'm proud of myself. 

-Quassatas in Latin means damaged.