Stubborn.

That's me. Stubborn, impatient, and falling apart. But what everyone tells me is different. I think they're wrong. They won't listen to me though. They keep going on saying that I'm brave and strong and confident and a protector. What they don't see is that on the inside where they've got pretty mansions and little houses and sunshine, I have decrepit apartments and run down warehouses and constant grey skies. It's so easy to put up that facade and glue on a smile and pretend everythings okay. It's better for them, and easier for me. 'Cause I know that if they could see me falling apart, they'd be terrified that their selfless "protector" is broken.