A long time ago I was happy
Really happy
I believed the world was a golden white, and everyone was like a stick figure with a permanent smiley face.
But I grew up and the world changed, at least my point of view, in the beginning I believed everything came from a book, and everything would.
As I grew up people tapped me on the shoulder, and called my name asking,
Hey Lily, you want to join us?
I ignored them, I created a barrier around myself and kept reading, thinking in my mind everything would go back to the way I thought it was, before.
But I knew I what I was seeing was the truth.
I wanted to go in a different direction, but the direction I went in was opposite of what I was wanting.
I was like a dog on a chain, I wanted to add color to the black and white world I saw, but knew that it would be painted over.
Because I was a kid, I am a kid, I didn’t have a choice.
I had to lose things, because how can you keep things when your inventory is full, and its’ slapped out of your hand. Already miles away from you, because they made you keep walking. You couldn’t go back and pick it up.
Eventually I tripped and fell, sometimes I believe I decided to climb down the ladder myself.
That when I’m happy I climb up, and when I’m down I keep falling, like the sun and moon, it’s a cycle, a struggle for domination, for control over my own mind.
Sometimes I believe voices carried in a gust of wind as strong as in a hurricane knocked me over. With sayings that showed no empathy, such as Get over it.
Sometimes I believe like I could be Alice in Wonderland, but I realize the fall isn’t that easy.
Sometimes I believe the walls are made out of soap, there’s no brace for impact, no warning, no stopping yourself before you smash into a million pieces. That there’s no going back.
So I fell.
But as you can see I’m still here, still breathing, still reading.
Still blocking myself from everyone else.
