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I Don't Know

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i really wanted to write a story. A story about my long journey through middle school. i went through a lot. i started to write a book with everyone’s names changed and wrote all the events that happened. But that just made me even more depressed than I already was. As if writing everything down was making me relive it all. So i stopped after 10 pages. So i decided to write a poem. But it ended up sounding forced and unreal. i stopped after 10 lines. There are so many emotions locked inside my heart like a soda can that has been shaken before opening. Each bubble forming, each thought or idea being shoved away. i would draw something, but i can’t draw. i would write a song, but I’m not that creative. i would make a dance, sing a song, recite a monologue, but I’m not that brave. i could give the book another shot, but it would probably push me over the edge. While writing it, every word i typed felt like every tear that ever slipped off my face. Every new paragraph felt like every mean comment ever spat at my face. Writing is my way of expressing these emotions, but how do i write about something like this. i realize that i probably shouldn’t complain. There are a lot of people out there at other schools going through something so much worse than i. So what do i do? i tried opening that cold metallic can in my heart, but i cannot control the spray. Everytime i let some dribble out, it just bursts out in quick hysteric moments of pain. So i leave it closed. And when someone else comes to help undo lid, it stays shut. i know it has to be me to open this can, but how am i supposed to do that when i am not strong enough? People say, you can do it!, and be strong, but they don’t understand. No one can understand. People can understand what it is like to be sad, but they cannot understand what it is like to be me.

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