My mind is a very strange and dark place. One minute I'm in a garden filled with flowers of every colour, pure and full of life, and the next I'm in a dark cold pit full of rotting corpses and rotting earth, the putrid smell making me want to vomit.
My dreams are hard to explain. Because of this, it's makes my life a little, well let's just say difficult. It's not easy, being so imaginative yet morbid at the same time. I've been ridiculed by other students because of my writing, my teachers and parents worry. But it's just how I am. I see no harm in seeing beauty just as well as death and destruction.
Sadly no one else sees things the same way as me, because I have only been sent to countless therapy sessions that are still on going, I must keep a dream book now, that's what the therapists say. It's all alright though. Because now I can read my dreams and recreate them in my mind countless times. As much as I want without having to forget any details.
My dreams and nightmares will live on now, once written in ink, they come to life as if they had actually happened. How exciting. I cannot wait to sleep tonight for tomorrow when I wake up I can create something truly disturbing and gorgeous.
