Where the Sun Rises

It's not real. That's what I keep telling myself, but I know deep down in my heart, it is. It's real like school is real. It's as real as you need air, as real as a tree. It's just, true. You know that feeling when something really bad happens, and you really hope it's just a dream, so you can just wake up from it, but you can't? It 's like that, plain old real. It all happened so fast. It all happened so suddenly. Like a big rush of wind that just blows. I can't explain it using words. I can't use words, but I can use my story. Because when I write, I feel free, and all worrries go behind me. I know that not a thing in the world can stop me, and my dad calls it a work of art. Or, at least he did, until he went missing.