Outcast.

Invisible

   Things are different for people like me. The people who dare to walk on the line of creativity. The people who aren't afraid to stand out. The people who don't necessarily "fit in" to the norm. People like see the world in a way that other don't. Some of us are clanless. Whether it's internally or externally we are unique.
The people who aren't like us don't understand. In our society people are either fascinated or scared of what doesn't make sense. People like me will be questioned or picked on or left behind. It hurts sometimes, being different, but most of us get used to it.
My name is June Harris. I am an artist. I am an outcast. I am different. I am clanless but I am not lost. There are consequences but I let my mind be free. I am myself.
The questions, the comments, the words all hurt but it's worth it. I'd rather be me than pretend to be someone else. It's a waste of my time and everyone else's. I tried to fit in before and I was miserable. I can listen to my mind and body and soul instead of blocking out the real me.
These thoughts all hit me as I sit under the drooping willow tree in front of the school. No one cares to come up to me or even look at me. I guess I'm just an invisible type of person. Looking down I notice the blank journal on my lap. I have so much in my head but it seems nearly impossible to put my mess of a mind into words.