Holding a Rope and then a String

My family is like a Ribbon. It's fancy,silky, nice, -everything a perfect ribbon can offer. Well, that's what people see anyways. I wish it was a ribbon though. Though, staring a bit longer, some say my family is more of a yarn. It's pretty to some, durable for many, but it isn’t as silky, smooth, and perfect as a ribbon. Even though my parents try to claim it to be. But from my eyes, a member of this ribbon and yarn, it’s just a string. Barely hanging on by a thread. It tries to be perfect for some. But people can see,-I can see it’s nothing special. I’m tired of pretending to be a ribbon, I’m tired of barely being seen as a durable yarn. My family is a string ready to be ripped and snipped. It’s tears easily. But as I am forced to be this ribbon so badly, -even though I’m a puny weak string. I put the fake little ribbon bow on my head and try my best to smile.