justyoureverydaygirl

Who decides when I am old enough to make decisions for myself? When I am old enough to vote, to drive, to become a parent? Is there something that happens when a person turns eighteen that makes them ready to be alone in the world?   Why is it that there is set time from when I am brought into this world until I can drive, vote, drink, decide, and choose? Shouldn't that be determined by how a person behaves, or how they think? My input didn't mean anything when somebody else decided that eighteen was the age that I would be able to think. Nobody asked me if I was okay with waiting to drive until I was sixteen. What if I had been physically,

Have you ever hated yourself? I have. I still do.   I hate the way my words never come out right when I talk, and the way I stutter when I'm nervous. I hate the way that public speaking makes me talk faster than people can listen and makes my stomach hurt because I know that I'm doing it wrong. I hate the way my chin folds out to make another, a double chin. I hate the way my arms look, red and splotchy and chubby. I hate that my eyes don't work right, haven't since I was born, and I have to wear glasses.   I hate the red irritations on my skin and the blackheads that sprout overnight. I hate that I grow hair on my upper lip even though I'm

Bullying. It's a cruel, vicious thing. I've seen beautiful people ripped apart by malicious words and glances out of the corners of eyes that say more than any word until they were husks, shells torn to shreds by the hateful remarks of people who have decided that it's their duty to create a living hell for anybody they see as a threat to themselves. I've seen a empty bathroom with one single girl trying desperately to get rid of the main thing that she's mocked for; the roundness that has stayed with her from her childhood. It breaks my heart to know that even if she does succeed, and reaches her goal, it won't end. There is an endless bar