If I learned something, I'd guess you're crying, in a corner. All the bravado on the screen, for show.
And the mirror looking at you, merciless. Relentless.
A broken doll, breaking others to hide her own hurt.
And not getting anywhere, of course.
You'd come out fighting, protesting your indomitability.
Nobody needs to tame you.
When you need a friend, you'll know where to find me. I can't fix you. And I won't. I won't break you either.
You're not an object, and you should know that where it counts.
Not in your brain. In your guts.
That's why you're afraid to meet me.
Now I know. And you do, too.
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