There is no middle ground

for a teenage girl.

Too old for playground swings,

too young for the city after dark.

Too grown for dolls,

too childish to be taken seriously.

Too pretty?

You’re asking for it.

Not pretty enough?

You’re invisible.

No makeup?

“Put some on.”

Makeup on?

“Take it off.”

No boyfriend?

Unwanted.

Have one?

You're easy.

Too loud?

Embarrassing.

Too quiet?

Rude.

Too emotional?

Dramatic.

Too calm?

Heartless.

They say it only gets harder—

like this isn’t already

a tightrope with no net.

Every choice a mistake

Every version wrong is wrong.

Growing up

is being watched,

corrected,

and never allowed

to simply be.