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EnoughYou want to be enough for everyone
Reckless enough and careful enough
Skinny enough and sinuous enough.
If your mask fits properly
Nobody cares about what is behind.
If your eyes shine
Nobody cares why
If it's beauty or fun or if this are tears.
As long as you fit in
But you just fit in when you are enough
And it's so hard to be enough
And it's so much harder not to be enough.
To those who pressure others
because they think they are the only ones worth living
the only ones who are perfect.
You should know that no one is perfect.
Not everybody is like you.
People who are different aren't less important.
They are as good as you
As good as everybody else
Think about that
And about what you can do to people
When you want them to be enough
To be perfect...
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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