just a paper for school, but it was so deep that i had to add it here. |
8th grade English assignment What’s true to me? Really, I don't know anymore. A while ago you could have asked me and I could have written a thousand things, but I wouldn't really know what they meant to me slowly reality has simply become one big fat lie. The world can be so easily crumbled shattered like glass against concrete, the shards piercing my body and drawing blood and making scars. The truth has been stretched, altered made to sound so sweet, but it holds such bitter meaning underneath the layers. Others have been fooled by its sweet taste, but i recoil from it like it was fire. My truth? I’ve never really fit in, always hiding in a shell that's too small to hold all i want to say. I don't feel the way others feel, or think the way I am supposed to. This can be a blessing, but more often it only serves as a curse, a taboo against social interaction. I disappear into worlds that can only hold me for so long. When I return, it’s with the feeling of emptiness, the feeling of being ripped out of where you belong. My only true friends are like me, socially out casted and shunned from what others call reality. What others call the truth to me, the only truth left is that there are only lies, only disappointment and suffering left for the world. Not for me of course, I have my moments of bliss and my moments of true truth, when I find someone who thinks as differently as I do. My truth is that something’s are better left under the rug, even if you trip over them later. My truth is that I am the one who outcasts myself, the one who truly bullies me into submission My truth is that I don't really trust anyone, or anything for fear that it will be taken away My truth is that I help others more than I help myself, believing that a broken tool can’t fix a broken bike My truth is that my life is only so stable, only held together my cheap glue and tape My truth is that I have a side no one has seen, and that no one will ever see. My truth is that I'm not proud to be a liar, but I still do it every day, to everyone I know. My truth is that I’m insecure, I'm scared and ashamed and so I release on paper, the only place I can. Don’t tell me it’s too long, that you wanted it short and sweet, because you said you wanted my truth, and that's what I give. there is too much bottled up inside to summarize what I feel, how I view the world and how I see what’s wrong with this place we all call reality. My truth? What’s true to me? The only thing that stands true it that there will always be lies, always be someone who will stab your back and blame it on someone else. But even so, life is always worth living, so that you can pick up the betrayed and give a tiny ray of light to their dimming souls. I was lucky to be lifted from the ground. And now the truth is I want to do the same |