Rebel With(out) a Cause

People don’t seem to understand that I honestly don’t give a fuck.
Some people say “they don’t care what people think of them”.
I scoff at those people.
Yes, you do. You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t care.
You act like you have this carefree attitude; you listen to indie music, act like a rebel.
But I know the truth.
This is all just a masquerade.
The truth is, you are nothing like the façade you put on.
At night, when you are sitting alone in your room, you will put on some of the newest, most mainstream music.
When your parents (who you feign hatred for) call you down for dinner, you shall eat all your vegetables and thank them and God (who you also feign hatred for, much to the delight of your parents) for this wonderful meal.
This is all well and good; you should love your parents and God (if they suit you).
But don’t pretend.
It is despicable.

I’ll say it again.
I don’t give a fuck.
Not caring doesn’t mean that I hate my parents or anyone else, for that matter.
People’s adverse opinions don’t have any negative consequence to me.
I hear the words under their breath.
Pretty face, ugly body.
Stupid.
Bitch.
Fat.
Theoretically speaking, these people think they are hurting me.
Ha.
I’ve been hurt before, and I’ll be hurt again.
Over the years, I’ve grown a protective shell towards these words.
So I cannot hurt anymore.
When I hear the mutters of some bigot, I just smile to myself and walk on by.
At least I know that one day they will see.
I will rise above the masses and become the beautiful butterfly that I know I am.
My iridescent colors will glow.
But for now, I’m stuck in my cocoon.
So keep the words coming.
I have steadfast armor.