Life is never easy being a teenager, always trying to fit in and be like everyone else. Never feel like you can really be yourself at school because people will hurt you if you do. Trying to be in the crowd and be a normal person. Never easy at those ages let alone at all. I never could be myself, always looked at like I was crazy. People would walk by talking about someone, some show they all watched last night, or just talking about nothing. everyone huddled together i their groups of life. I stood alone seeing everyone look over and stabbing me with their eyes. Looking at me like I am crazy. Bells ring and I walk a solider's walk, people look at me and want to hurt me with their eyes. I go inside and take my seat, others come in and talk their lives away. Looking at me is people who think I am crazy, I take of my jacket and put it nicely on the side of my seat. I sit in silence mute but saying to the world everything that nobody wants to hear. Class begins with one last ring of the bell of faith. The teacher looks at us and already is yelling without specking. Turns to me and says" Why?" I sit there saying nothing, but already said my answer. People look and with their eyes say I am crazy. No one sees my eyes. teacher turns away and continues the day. This continues all day, and the day grows dark. By noon the clouds have rolled in holding the wonderful sun captive. People hide in fear of rain, girls running to cover themselves in case water hits them like death would. I walk being hit by the sky's tears. People scream I am crazy, dressed for meetings, but walking with nothing. I walk alone, I walk a solider's walk, I wear a corporate outfit, but I stand out for one accessory. I wear sunglasses in rain, shine, fog, and night. I am called crazy, I am alone, I am a rare find. No one asks why I wear what I do, nobody cares. And for those that do run because of the answer. Doomed to solitary I was born with a defect, yet it is called a blessing. A gift that curses your teenage years more then they are cursed already. A cursed gift of higher brain frequency, the gift of being a Physic. Called crazy for even specking the words, crazy for believing it is even possible. I know everyone is crazy in their own ways but why is it my eyes seem crazy? and all others just want to hurt me with theirs? Life hold it's own answers but being this form of crazy is lonely. If i am crazy to believe what I am is true how crazy is it to believe what we all are is evolving every day? I hold no regret in being my kind of crazy but i wish the crazy that hold the solitude in my teenage years would end in time to show that the crazy really is just fear of what is real all around us.
July 28, 2010