I defined my significance by how much you noticed me, when in fact I am here regardless. I scream and I can hear myself even if you’re holding your ears. Nothing will change unless you let go and look me in the eyes. Tell me I meant nothing to you, because from your actions that is what I feel.
I’m not lonely. I’m content in seeing myself for who I am. My invisibility is subjective to you. My existence is not predicated upon your approval.
I want to shout “you’re a bad person!” But that’s not the truth. You are just blind. I’m still beautiful.