The little things

You are the freaks.

There are thousands of songs, reminding people they are loved, that they have someone, that they're not alone, that someone will treat them right.

Everyone loves those songs, it reminds them of all that when they feel their worst. Everyone loves those songs. Right?

No.

What when you have no one. No one that will reference a line from one of those songs, no one to remind them they are loved.

And if there is no one there to catch them when they fall, no one around to hear the cries and see the hurt, do they make a noise do they feel the pain?

If there is no one there to witness it, of course it still hurts.

And when the social system comes out to play reminding you, you're at the bottom of the food chain, behind the populars and the riches, behind the jokers and the hangers on, behind the musicals and the dramas, the artists and the dancers, behind the bullies and the stoners, behind the accepted outcasts and the nerds, behind clique after clique, you are the freaks.

And no one will stand up for you when everyone is against you, there won't be the one voice that speaks up.

Not even your own, because in the past when you tried to speak out, the fired the guns that had bullets made of words, and their tongues like knives and they destroyed it.

They took away any chance you would make a sound, keeping you quiet, keeping you in your place.

And when your broken and tattered, too weak and too tired to fight back, so fed up and upset that any emotion you try and show turns to tears. They've stubbed out all spark of hope or joy.

But they left a larger, wilder flame burning, an anger glowing white hot within you, until you lash out and cause a whirlwind of damage, spreading like wildfire until finally you burn out and destroy yourself.

So no not everyone loves those songs, because sometimes it's a reminder of what they don't have.

4.11.15