Why is writing so hard for me? People look at my work and think, wow you’re amazing. But somehow i convinced myself otherwise. The bullying may have stopped but not inside and around me. When my true feelings come out and I tell someone who’s opinion I value they shut me down and suddenly being true with myself is bad. Being me is bad.
I know they don’t mean it and may not understand but why does it have to happen? Why can’t people just accept me how I am. I’ve tried to follow our lines and I’ve tried to obey your rules. But it’s never right to you. Nothing seems to be right to you.
I care about my writing but because you’ve shut me down so much with other things I hide it from you, like I use to hide everything from the world. Why did you have to do it? Why trap me inside myself? Why make me appear all grown up on the outside but on the inside I’m still that second grader who walked in a new class room on the first day hoping to belong. But instead she found a world of isolation because everything about her was wrong.
Your clothes aren’t right, your innocence is still there, you worry too much and believe too much, you really shouldn’t care. Come on give up you know you don’t belong. And so they trapped her inside with her unheard song. They made her believe it was her place to never be chosen by a group. That she was a loner and would always be that way.
Silent and alone the shell formed around that girl while she was trapped inside. Pretending to be strong and mature, silent and resigned. But that girl never healed and never understood why the world didn’t want her, and no one ever would.
Trapped in a glass sphere of the words they wouldn’t let her say, covered in ivy, to put it in a pretty way. A ray of hope shone through in the darkest day. And promised her that there was a way to give the world her song. The seed of writing was planted, she fed it every day. Hoping that eventually the world would hear the words she couldn’t say.
That child still lives within me, and as I contribute to that seeds growth, the ivy all around me is trying to stifle me and choke out my voice. I still want to belong and be accepted for who I am. But, although I want it, it doesn’t fit my plan. One day i’ll break through that glass and then the world will see. That I was meant to be much more, a tall and successful tree.