1.
Wedding bells go off in the summer distance, all year round. Summoning friendly creatures from transmutation circles causes lively dances all around. Magic spells and confetti from the sky, because you’ve always wanted to know what it looks like, but didn’t want to clean up the mess that would follow. A gown of rainbows and white you wear to your mind, representing the fun you can have, and the commitment you have to your imagination. Doves chirping love songs to one another to show their affection, show that even the simplest of creatures have wants.

2.
It was in the mid years of school that you found to be your downfall. With swirling emotions filling your psyche, you fall to your knees, self-murder flying all through your thoughts like the birds of love you used to have instead. The birds call to you with songs of decaying smoke filling your lungs and giving you a cancerous breath. “Suicide is the best option,” but is it really? The words spit off your tongue as if you are exhaling them from your lungs to keep yourself somewhat sain. It never works, but you keep trying. You dress yourself in a cloak of unnecessary sleep and self denial. Eventually you become insane, with thoughts only plunged in “I don’t understand” and death.

For many years you plunge yourself into darkness and solitude,
waiting for a friend to enter your heart,
and make it easier to breathe.

3.
Girly glitters and more rainbows join you as you dress yourself in a tutu of sparkles and wear wings made the same. You hold a plastic wand in your hand as if it is the newly found elemental power source that the entire world needs to keep from going into an energy crisis. The wand is the friend that joins you as you interact and play with other human friends. Dolls and more than one outfit for each one to wear also embrace your life. Fairy pictures hung all up and down the walls and memories of mermaids that formed in your dreams and came to life on paper.

4.
A pen’s ink is the gel, foaming on your life, it dries to hold it in place, keeping it still and firm, as it would hair. A pencil’s lead formed into bricks, founding the outline of what you’ll go over in a deeper, more precise line that starts the sketch and ends it too. The paper is the entire world. With a vast white canvas, you with swerve lines all over the ground and sky, until you have made the necessary marks that will end the painting known as you. Paintings, I should say: there are many. At the end, you will become the paintings you’ve left to share with the entire world. Soon they’ll see that ink and led wasn’t all of the picture. With pastels, crayons, markers, conte, paint, and so much more, you will show them, in depth of your death, all the colors they couldn’t see, or find before.

5.
An immediate family that love you less than the ones that are distant, because you are not like them, because misunderstandings make you bleed red sorrow, and their blood is filled with a plasma of strict commandments, cupid’s arrows that miss your heart and pierce through the iris of your eyes making you blind to the truth. It’s impossible to feel anything but dismay, so many reasons, but no one can find a way to help you out of the aim of misguided arrows. Their volume is rising, the tension is rising, but they deny the fact that they did anything. “They are innocent”, and a lack of “sorry” shows how much they care, even though they try to shove thoughts of love down your throat, ones that don’t even make sense to a normal person, that don’t show love but restraint, that prefer superiority of power. You must apologize, but you’ve done nothing wrong. Just because someone needs to take the blame, you must say sorry. “You are selfish, and treat us horribly!” yelling with aggravation, and a false sense telling them that, “they are the adult and you are the child!” so they don’t need to listen, or care, or do anything you ask. Each word stabs into you like teeth, and the words don’t ever cease to sting. The venom eats at your nervous system, your organs, and your blood cells, until you are paralyzed and unconscious, dying inside. When the dolor starts to possess you, you break, leaving only hollow smiles to guide you like Charon, deep in the underworld of trauma.

6.
Love can only be found in your friends. Even with the burning sensation of negativity at home, they give you the hug you need after a fight, they wipe the tears away that don’t even belong to their rage. Your family had more reason to wipe your tears than your comrades should’ve needed to have. Rejection is more of a cold feeling really, I don’t know what to make of it. As the ice crystals eat at fragments of my soul causing it to turn black with frostbite, as the glass imbedded in the ice rips away at it until it becomes nothing, they slowly, and gently become the sun in my solar system, that should have been there when I was born, and all the days after until my death, but my family didn’t take it upon themselves to listen…
and the old sun died.
Internal gravity, holding each vessel onto one another, creating a pull that you can’t push off of or escape. Unable to free yourself from the dusted surface that arose from the moon of the planet you held as your life, because you are no longer in close enough relation with yourself to live on the planet that is you.

7.
A life improved more by things that don’t exist than people that do. The embodiment of a person-in-a-person-that-isn’t finds their way into your heart giving you and naming you Soul. You are smiling to imaginary figures, clinging to them. You can’t let go because if you do then you will join them in non-existence, at the same time you will move farther away from them. You want to get closer, you want to feel the things they feel, be the things they are, but you can’t because if you do, you will be nothing. Your painting has turned to face a screen, one slowly losing pigment and picture, while you fade along with the figures of beings you have come to love.

7 ½
Although you are dragged into this cycle of what is and what isn’t, it was the very being of those “things” that saved your life. They gave you purpose. They told you stories you wanted to hear when you were young...about the brave, valiant knight and universes where games are the foundation. You become the main character in your own world for once. No one accepts you, but it doesn’t matter, because the wing of the angel in a digital box, lifts you back into the sky, to hang as a star again,
next to the moon.
For the first time, the fairies you wanted to fly away with when you were sad, assist you in your escape from misery, by showing you true magic. By showing you true magic, you have come up with a way to destroy the feelings that destroy, and give you depression. Real transmutations (at least as real as they’ll ever get) assemble you, piece by piece, once again.

8.
In a deathbed of roses, all one shade of deep blue, you lay cold, your bitter blood stops flowing, and the salty nonsense goes away, letting you sleep. Black leaves for intensely blue roses, black jewels and pearls of white, shining with grace. A black ancient looking coffin with relieved designs and a mixture of indentations and hand-molded polymer clay roses also the color of sapphires, finds you lying inside its interior, with a mystical looking symbol engraved onto the lid with a more shiny layer of black, and a fluorescent deep blue satin covering the inners, cushioning your dead, still body.

9.
Melodies that harmonize, shatter glass as they come in contact with the air, causing fragments of crystallized sand to soar into the edge of the atmosphere before endangering your already limited lifespan. Eardrums vibrate with soothing, yet piercing notes that toss and turn inside your head, letting you exhale a resonating, euphonious aria. Each word you utter bears shimmers. As if the sky has taken your song as its own, all throughout the air, you hear a tune equal to a symphony.

10.
what they want me to be:
A casual dresser, sneakers and a shirt that doesn’t cover your petite stomach, unless you are acting like a good little girl and listening to everything your mom says, then you can’t even show a fraction of your shoulder. A smile that is happy, but not silly or overwhelmingly joyful. Don’t laugh at certain things even if they are funny. Laugh at things you know aren’t funny. Comb your hair, straighten it, pour a bottle of lotion and perfume on yourself and cake on deodorant so that you smell like a weird hybrid version of a flower, and at the same time you smell like an allergy attack waiting to happen. Put on too much though, and you aren’t the right person you’re supposed to be either, so don’t even wear any perfume, I changed my mind. Listen to this music, have this grade, you can like sports but not any sports I don’t know about. Also, try not to be too smart either, good grades are important, but I don’t want to see you do better than me, so I expect you to get a “D” on everything. If I don’t understand you I won’t try to talk to you, but if I understand too much, then you are a boring person and we should go our separate ways.

However,
these are conflicting
you’re not sure what to do,
so you don’t talk to anyone.
For many years you stay alone,
and wait for someone to enter your life
that treats you like a friend

11.
who I want to be:
You want to be a person who can do anything. That way you won’t leave anybody alone because you don’t know what they are talking about. You want to understand everything you are told, that way you won’t make people angry when they are upset and you fail at trying to cheer them up. You don’t want to be fragile. You don’t want to cry, or see others cry. You want to at least be able to cheer them up every time that they do. You want to hear everything you ever missed hearing. You want to wear things that no one ever thought to wear, even though they love them so much they start wearing them the next week. You want to be able to remember the names you forgot, the places you’ve been, each hour you’ve been alive. That way you can never get in trouble for missing things, that way you can’t fight with old friends you forgot, and each direction is easy to navigate. If only your eyes could change color like her. If only the world that you lived in wasn’t gloomy, if only the days weren’t so long and boring, and short when you had fun.

That didn’t happen.
It never will,
so you
for many years,
stay alone,
and wait for a friend to finally
accept

you.

12.
who I am:
I am a person who loves and cries genuinely. Who smiles and laughs intensely. I have found refuge in a land far away that does not exist; however, I find myself still merged to the earth I’ve always known. I’m usually lonely, but with my friends, I forget the moments I was alone. Even though I am sad, I don’t remember that I am, because I exchange those memories with others that I’ve invented in my mind. Although I am accepting, although I am flexible, I know I am stubborn. I have to do things a certain way in order to be satisfied with it. I am loud and energetic.

…

Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve been forgotten, as though each crumbling moment I spend is meaningless, and sometimes the only thing I get in return is more reason to think that way.