Different - Part 1

         I like the smell of rain and freshly cut grass. I like the sound of rain and of trains passing by. I like it when a soft breeze picks up and rustles my hair. I like the one pink rose amidst all of the red ones. I love when it rains.
                             I am like the outlier in the data.
         I know I'm not like everyone else. I can feel it. I think differently than others. I don't speak my mind unless it really counts, I think. I watch people. Even if I don't know the person personally I can know them by observation. I often find that real life can be overwhelming. I prefer my head and my imagination. I make up stories constantly.
         My thoughts always seem disconnected. One moment I'm thinking about something and the next I'm on a totally different subject. I have a hard time focusing.
         Most people don't understand what I mean. When I hear certain noises I smell certain things. When I here words I see them in a certain color. I know that others don't know what I mean when I mention this, they don't smell or see when they hear.
                    I'm alone. Falling deeper into my own head each day.
         My name is Rainy Days. Maybe that's why I always have loved the rain unlike everyone else. Don't ask me why my parents named me that, I have no idea. They left me when I was 6. I'm just a 12 year old in and out of foster care. This is my story.