Everything I ever said came crashing down today. I felt the weight hit me and didn't think I could stand. Nothing made sense to me and I prayed and hoped maybe it was something I dreamt. Reality. It hits hard. I never could see clear--my vision was a kaleidoscope. It made me see things in my own perspective and maybe that's why my vision of reality was distorted. I wrote what I wanted to see, what I saw. Not what others saw, is that why I'm portrayed as someone different? I hold back these tears that are fighting to merge with my skin and my vision is clouded again. Just thinking about what I've written and how people presume I'm a know-it-all about life, but I'm not, I'm still living it. I make it seem as if I have a horrible life and people, people continually beat me down. I admit I don't have a bad life--I try to get people to understand me but they don't want to hear what I'm saying. Deaf to my cries. Blind to my tears. How do I convince people, how do I make people see the real me? If I can't find a way through my writing, I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe my age is really starting to seep through my writing. Is it that obvious I'm juvenile?
