Do you like my outfit?
…
You don’t, I know it
How many followers do you have?
That’s twice the number I have!
I can’t wear this
It’s not the trend anymore
So, how did you like my poem?
…
You hate it
How did I lose that dance competition?
So did he talk to you?
You did not laugh at my joke
I thought it was funny…
How do you have so many friends?
Does anyone want to come to the dance with me?
I’m thinking maybe the purple dress
Do you like it?
...
You don’t
Ugh I’m going to look awful

Why is happiness the number of people I sit with at lunch?
Or the grades I get?
Or the amount of followers I have?
Or how pretty you think I look in my dress?

Why can’t happiness just be me and my thoughts?
And the person I know I am?
The person that is suffocated by the essence of society
And the person that has the potential to bloom