Suffocated. Trapped. Surrounded by rules and restrictions. I have to dress a certain way. I must look a certain way. Every facet of my life must be in perfect order. I’m listlessly going through the motions and coming out empty. I have no friends. I have nothing special. I feel infinitely meaningless. Every time I try to back up and start over, I fall further down. I’m ages ahead of everyone else, yet, I wish I was five. No one cares. I’m smiling, pretty, happy; exactly what I’m supposed to be. Always fulfilling my expectations, always reinforcing my image. The hardest part is realizing that I’ve set myself up for this: I created the rules. I established the restrictions. I have turned myself into a monster, and I am terrified of myself. I am one who thrives on accomplishment, but can never get enough. One who will eventually die trying to attain unrealistic perfection. One who keeps falling. One who can’t take care of herself, but will never give up in convincing others of the contrast. One who demands way more than is she is capable of. One who is too afraid to put aside her pride and ask for help.