Bits & Pieces: A Poetic Account

Start of a Person

I do not know what to do.

I do not know what to say.

The only thing I can really count on, is my writing.
It helps me.

The truth is, writing is a way for me to express my feelings and who I really am. In person, I can talk to you, but I guess I'm so used to acting happy and acting okay... I convinced myself that I was.
Only for a little while, did this mirage of deceit last.

I looked in the mirror one day, and didn't like who I was anymore.
I had friends. I was "popular". But none of that made me change my mind. I felt like I didn't know... me.

Dying on the inside, I carried the fake smile with me wherever I went. Everyone thought I was fun, carefree, laid back.

The truth was. On the inside. I was none of those things. I was confused, on edge, discomforted by my own thoughts telling me that I was nothing.

Me, staying the "strong" person that I was, I kept that all in. I shared none of these emotions with my friends.
Little rays of my true nature have shone through.... but I quickly clouded over them with more lies, smiles, and laughs.
I became unaware, that what I was doing to myself was hurting me even more. I was dying on the inside, but nobody could ever know.

Why?

Because I thought that if I was seen as weak, and unstable, and serious. I would be seen as a person who is broken. I would be seen as a person who is not able to work properly. Not able to function.

Crying myself to sleep one night, I reached out. Not to a person. But to my journal and my pen.

I wrote and wrote and wrote.

I made sure to express my emotions and my feelings to the one thing I felt I could express myself to... a piece of paper.
I felt that if I had expressed any of my true thoughts, feelings, or actions, I would be judged for what I believed... for what I felt... for what I had been feeling.

When confiding in a paper, it cannot judge you... it cannot comment back with distaste or hate... it takes in what you have to say.

So. This became my safe haven. My sanctuary.
I wrote my words on the paper to feel that I was letting go. I was letting out these pent up emotions. These tears, that dropped onto the paper I wrote on.
I felt complete. I felt that this was my way of expression.

My artistry. My talent. My true self...