Losing sleep lead to losing my mind.
Softly drifting, like the gentle lullaby I desperately need.
Like a child without it's lunchtime nap, I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I am unhappy.
Maybe Alice has lead to the truth,
Because every time I spell her name wrong, it comes out as a l i v e.
What is that?
I think I've heard of such a thing, but I haven't felt for a while now.
Oscar and the hatter are apart of me now,
I sent my dreams down a wishing well.
Thinking that maybe they'd come up and greet me for a while.
They never did,
And so they're left there.
To wander while I wait,
For an awaited show they'll make.
For now the sky is where I rest my mind.
I hope it's where I'll reside.
I forget that I cannot see, and I remember the feeling of the clouds as I breathe.
Maybe I'm not meant to be "happy".
Maybe I'm unique?
Maybe I'm meant to stay melancholy.
I might be the one who who never leaves.
I might be okay this way.
I am not perfect. I am not pretty. I am not ugly. I am not smart. I am not stupid. I am not original. I am not not original. I'm me.
Stuck in between the pages you read. In the margins, hoping to find space to breathe. I'm not completely lonely, I enjoy your company. I like the words you speak and the way you turn the pages. I like that you smell of me.
Im an old book that no one ever picks up. But you picked me up. I'm alice and I'm Oscar and I'm the sky and I am what you read. I give you what you give me. You think what you want, and that's what I'll be. I may have been born from tragedy, and it may still carry.
But in these words you read...My temporary diary. The silent confessions of your average teenager...are all reality. I may be made of ink and talk of flowers that speak, but I breathe. Put your ear against my chest and you'll hear my heart beat. Look at how my arms bend, and the way my eyes close and open once again. Then tell me about how my world isn't real. Tell me that my ways are wrong, and you'll be just like them. Tell me I'm peculiar and I'll laugh. Mock my imagination. Curse my beliefs. Forget about me when you think of your favorite thing. I don't care. I've moved from where I've been.
I'm a long way from wonderland, and a block down from the East End.
With the clouds kissing my mouth I stay silent.
I never knew I needed not to say a word.
Sometimes the answer is nothing at all.
YOU ARE READING
the silent confessions of your average teenager
Teen Fiction"Tell a tale of a few minutes ago. Tell it short, but tell it well. This is your story. Write how you chose. Just remember, you've got nothing to lose." [contains both fiction and true short stories]
