Passers-by, how am I?

They ask me how am I
They're just going to pass by
They don't want to hear the answer

They talk of my height
Besides of my weight
Is that all that matters?

To them

Am I what? What am I?
Why are they all just
Passing by

They don't want to hear my answer
They're afraid of the thruth

Why do they
Choose to go that way?
There are many other paths
that could take them away at last

Sitting in the corner
With an eating disorder
Or depression, pain
Well this is our refrain

They say I should get better
Or that it's all my fault
But what does really matter
When this world goes 'round?

I was holding on to memories
Guess I shouldn't do so, no
"How are you?" will say the lovelies
I'll answer "I let it go"