Autobiography

I am leading a simple, yet complicated, life.
My life is as colorful and full of life as a box of possessed crayons.
My childhood was as interesting as toes are to a baby that’s first discovered them
I had a ton of Barbies and a blast making them interact to my own imagination.
I read anything I could get my hands on and enjoyed every minute of it.
I thought I was on top of the world; being free without a care for anything but not taking a nap does that.
I got caught sneaking out the same time I was trying to be a friend and console another friend.
And now at 17 I have seen a number of things that both frighten and fascinate me.
I have heard adults cry, children laugh, and those who just don’t care, suddenly become passionate.
I know a number of things that have nothing and everything to do with life except for the meaning behind it; I’m still waiting for that to be revealed.
I don’t know even more than I do know. Since I am just 17, I still have a lot more to learn and experience.
I hate, above all things, oppression. Those who stifle creativity have no excuse except for the fact that they are likely incapable of creativity themselves.
I love just the pure idea of life. The many ways it can be lived, experienced, and so much more.
I’ve lost myself once. I’ll admit it was the toughest time I’ve ever gone through because if you can’t find yourself, how can you expect anyone else to?
I’m looking for that one. He’s there somewhere. Heck, he may even be a she. I’ll never know until I open my eyes.
I wish for closure in all things I have hard feelings over. Nothing’s worse than holding a grudge when one doesn’t even want to.
And my heart is consumed with music. It is my life, my soul, and my entity.