I wished I could say what I felt.
I wished I could understand me.
I wished I could speak out.
I tried so hard to understand others.
I tried to be a friend.
How could I understand someone else if I didn’t even understand me?
I then began to write.
I created worlds with my favorite plants and colors.
I gave life to characters that cried my tears and leapt in my joys.
I invented plots and schemes that took me to places I dreamed of visiting.
I found peace in a fictional environment.
I found passion embedded in writing utensils.
I found a place to hide from a cruel world.
Though, I discovered something horrific.
I discovered that I was fostering neglect.
I have a philosophy now.
If you look for peace in vain in this world, then find another one,
But always be willing to come back home, or you’ll miss something important.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 1:06am on Nov 22, 2024 via server WEBX2.