What will become of this moment?

As I sit here trying to think of something interesting to write about a million things come to mind. I find a realease in my writing but if I tell a story about what is going on I know it could, would hurt other people. Even they hurt me everyday and not a care pass throught them. I could make a character and say, tell everyone that this person, these people are all in my head, I made it all up. But the truth is it's real I am real they are real. The words and actions they take are all real, and they hurt. You can't see the hurt on my body, but if you were to look into my mind there would be whole other world of hurt, a little girl crawled up in a ball sitting in the corner, scorned to be nothing. A hideous face made to be kepy from the world, her words are nothing as speaks she's made to be dismissed. That's me, in my world, in my mind, I sit with many words to say yet I'm told they mean nothing, what I say has no relavance, I told not to speak. So I sit, with all feelings and emotions all bottled up inside me. So again here I am with tears running down my cheeks trying not to let anyone know they got the best of me...To late...