TINY- Bethany Pace (Part 2)

The majority of the time, no words at all hurt worse than hurtful ones.
How can you fix something that you're not quite sure what you did wrong?
Seclusion began.
My friend group steadily began to become tiny.

It's hard to believe that a person can hear you when they aren't responding.
Staring into your eyes with a blank stare, without meaning, without feeling.
Heartless...
I tend to find myself asking,
“How can you do this/that to someone?”.
I sure wish I had someone to answer those questions, because answers were what I needed.
“Build a wall”, similar to trump campaigns, those were the only words that hung in the air.
The wall I built between myself and other people wasn't tiny.


I learned that silence isn't actually silence.
Silence screams louder than a tornado siren.
You can't close your mind, you can't say what you want.
Your mind is full of distress and empty thoughts, open ended answers, and lose strings.
The thoughts in my mind weren’t tiny.


Being tossed around from atmosphere to atmosphere is a big struggle.
Eventually my siblings and I, were sat in one place.
The mother figure in my life vanished along with my understanding.
My grip on my life loosened.
I couldn't exactly handle what I thought was going on.
Pretending….
My mask couldn't be tiny.


Blunt comments and misunderstood perceptions.
I drew my friends close, along with a bad image.
I grew angsty and rebellious.
Doing what I could to throw away my current reputation, and little did I know, my desired future.
Everyone eventually saw through to what I really was, my mask was transparent and tiny.


No one really is oblivious to the fact of teenage girls being insecure, it's overused.
“Self image”
It really projects to people who you are.
If you hate yourself, they’ll hate you.
If you think you're better than everyone, they’ll think you're a snob.
If you think your legs are too fat, if you think you’re stupid, if you think your hair always looks bad...they will too.
My confidence was crushed into debris smaller than tiny.

“Whatever”
“Stop”
“I'm fine, really”
“Yeah, I just ate a lot at lunch”
“I accidentally cut it when I was shaving”
“I’M OKAY!”
“Leave me alone”
“Just let me be”
Like a broken record, nearly broken door hinges, I repetitively said these things for months.
Trying to shelter my parents and my friends.
Meaning none of them.
Regardless, no one needed a magnifying glass to see the truth in my words were tiny.


Blood and tears tend to flow into the same stream, or into the same shower drain.
The scratches on the mirror matched the scratches in my mind.
Physically and mentally.
Band aids couldn't fix them, long sleeves covered my lies.
 “You’ve changed.”
“What's wrong?”
I couldn't answer any questions, I couldn't respond to them.
And only because I truly didn't know the answers.
My ability to control my emotions was tiny.