Who Am I?

history is a part of me, I want to forget

When my dad died, when I was only 6½ years old, I had a really hard time. Especially because I didn't want people to notice me and I didn't want compassion, since that only reminded me about it. All that time, the time I denied my sadness, I never cried about it. Not even now. I cried a lot, but never because my dad died.

I don't even remember him, I don't remember how he talked, walked, acted, or even what he looked like. I know what we did together, but I can't picture it without a photograph of him. I can't picture life with him anymore.

In school, I didn't really talk. Which got me bullied eventually, I locked myself at the toilet and didn't come out till school ended. I couldn't face the truth, I don't know why, but I just couldn't. My time at primary school, from 3rd grade till 8th, ruined me. It still haunts me sometimes. I couldn't face reality, so I just wasn't there. I was in my own world, in my head, I lived a normal life, far away from everything that happened to me. I erased my past. I thought it was better that way.

I'm in high school now, in our 2nd grade. And I still can't handle reality, truth, life. So last year I started writing poetry, not a lot, but this was my way to deal with my feelings. So when they were bullying me, I wrote this:

"Sadness

Tears fill up my eyes
Why is this one of my abilities?
Tears of sadness
I'm like a mimosa pudica

My leaves are hanging
Someone has been touching me
And that broke my soul, my hart

Staying sad doesn't matter
But how will I stand up against it?
The water drips all over my cheeks
I hope to catch my tears

So I'll get happy again
But this time, without any pain"

(I originally wrote it in Dutch, so it's better than)

I will try to write everyday, but it won't be large chapters. I hope you enjoy reading this story it's based on a real happening, but not everything in here is real.