When You're Me

Time was ticking by...

She could hear the old clock make that little clicking noise over and over, as she sat alone in the dark. She tried once again to forcefully shut her eyes close, and drift off to sleep. She needed rest, she was exhausted from her all too usual life. She was overwhelmed with the consistency every single day brought her. Delilah had to dream, she needed to get lost in something all her own. 13 year old Delilah Leone was a unique girl. She fit in with all the rest... She had friends, she had good grades, she had secret admirers and a quirky personality. People loved her because she knew how to put that lone spark in your day, to make it burn like fumed fire until it was over. She knew how to add a touch to everything. She always had something to do, someone to cheer up, someone to give advice to...someone to complement. She always had people around her, it seemed as though everyone was attracted to her charisma. And she didn't care. People talked to her about everything... She gave everyone a feeling of sense. She knew every secret there was to know and helped every person there was to help.

But, no one ever knew about Delilah. No one knew what SHE thought about. No one ever knew what problems SHE had. It's ironic, isn't it? Sometimes the more people you have, the lonelier you are inside.

I Ам Delilан.

Now, I believe my brain is a puzzle- and I'm just here to piece it together, thought by thought. I consider myself an open book: read between the lines and you'll get insight to my depth. I live and I breathe people, my horizons would stretch from one pole to another. But like they say, character is what you do when no one is watching, or in my case, listening.

On a normal day.. I'm dynamic, I'm willing, I'm talkative, and I'm everywhere. I'm that one person everyone seems to like for no reason. Some say I'm quite the catch. I say it's not like that at all.

I'm surrounded by these people everyday, who I call my friends. But as time goes on, it's starting to dawn on me that I have no friends. I know the cursory details about them- like favorite colors, or birthdays... But does that make me a friend? Is that what it takes to be a friend, now?? Is that what we are, people who Learn the necessities and then just cast each other into these pools labeled "friends" and "non- friends"? What does being a friend mean? I don't know. Im supposed to be this popular girl, whom everyone loves, but do they really love me? Or do they love the Idea of me, a person easy to just associate them with? Have you ever felt lonely?

Because I have.

Just because one isn't physically lonely, doesn't mean that they aren't emotionally lonely. So, what am I? My life is the same, all the time. Wake up, go to school, get A's and B's, be idolized, get invited to things... Stroll home, and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Have you ever been so tired of consistency, that you just want to disrupt your life on purpose? My life is full of fakes, and lies. Sometimes I want to explore the sky... I just want to break out of this era and indulge in something with meaning. Some need solitude, and a base to everything. I don't. Some say I'm crazy. But I scream to leave, I scream to have a purpose. I feel like a game piece that's forever losing. When you're me, everything's different. I long to empathize with someone. Have you ever met that one person, who just affected you for no reason? You have, because you're thinking about them right now. I don't have a person whose affected me, because i see everyone as a clone, clawing to get to the top of everything. Some days I just want to climb the highest mountain and watch people. People are some weird creatures. Want what we can't have, have what we don't want. Obsess over little things, look over the big ones. They're Cruel for entertainment, and entertain the cruel. Sometimes I feel sorry to be part of this world. If you sit back and close your eyes and think, we are amazing, and it pains me to see what we all choose to do with our lives. You may think it's strange, my thoughts. But, no one knows my thoughts, except you, of course. So no one knows how strange I am. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of Things People Know About Delilah. Sometimes I wish people wanted to know what I think about. I've always wanted to share my everything with just one individual. But no one ever asks, so I never tell. I sit there with my "happy" self, and help other people with whatever else they need, then go home, and think. I like to dream. I am a hopeless hoper. I like to get lost in my mind, and dig into my deepest thoughts. I like to evaluate my personality and understand why things are the way they are. Some call me a thinker, I call myself a ponderer. But when you're me, I guess your visions are shifted.

Although I may not see as the normal person sees, I do feel. Some days I like to walk in the rain, and get soaked for no reason... To feel my amber hair stick into my eyes, and run down my cheeks, as I blink the rain water away. I like to feel my cotton shirt become plastered to my body... To become heavy and rigid. In the rain, My clothes become a bit heavier to lag around, my hair forms a flooded mop around my face. I feel weighted down, as if I turned the shower head directly on my face. I like the feeling of physical weight on me, because it gives me the assurance that sometimes it's okay to feel pressure... Sometimes it's okay to feel pushed down. Given my last statement, it doesn't rain a lot when I'm out, so I barely receive the mental reassurance of anxiety. So there's an idea of how you could interpret me.

Some nights, when my mind is at it's height, I dream that its okay. I dream that Delilah Is perfectly fine, In her own self. I dream that things are alright. When I wake up, my low key nightmare begins... Only to repeat the cycle and end with my leisure back into my cloud of paradise.

Guess you could say my life is a cruel dream.