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<b>Theme : An Inconvenient Lie They never told me I was special. I had so much inside of me. They never told me I was special. I had a lot of it, too. Maybe... too much? I did my homework and I looked at the stars and tried to find my purpose, like everybody did from time to time. And the teachers that taught me how to be told me that I needed to put myself to good use. "Everybody has something like you do. You're not unique," they said. But they still told me I mattered. It was them, those other people, who told me otherwise. And why I chose to believe them over the teachers I do not know. I pictured a world. And inside of the world; there were so many other worlds that existed inside of everyone else's brains. It was like this whole spectrum of thoughts that just grazed the surface of genius, but never pushed through. They lied dormant, like martyrs not wanting to be remembered. But I knew how to awaken them. I pictured the world in my head the same as it is now. It's quiet, and lonely, with laughters echoing through out the corridors of the desolate alleyways. I usually don't use big words. The images of my planet came into view almost everyday. Somedays I forgot about it. I thought about it in a way that made me feel happy to think that I could conjure up such a lovely idea. It also made me feel distant from reality, because I wanted to live there. My world was a place that had my ideas blooming from every street corner. The cobblestones had no crevices in between them so no one fell and hurt their ankle. The trees were tall enough so that the gentlemen did not have to pull back the branches for the ladies to pass through. Everything was perfect. And everything was in harmony. And they weren't around to tell me how wrong I was, or to tell me that I'm a failure, because I'm not, and I know that. I just can't bring myself to use these things in the real world. This realm may be better off without my two cents... Or, no. Wait. I think I'm just afraid to face them; afraid to face the fears that they have implanted into my naive and fragile being. But what is the worst thing they could do? Could they break me down once I'm noble? So here I am, staring out the window of the study that my grandfather lets me use in his house by the lake on afternoons when class lets out early. I've never told him about this. He is deaf. My problems are between myself and them. They are all liars. I know that they are lying to me by saying I'm stupid and inferior. I don't know what I feel, though. I know they're wrong. But something tells me that I'm not right either. Again, I tell you that here I am, staring out the window by the lake, keeping my thoughts within me. People will go on, tripping on the cobblestone streets, and forgetting to pull back the branches (and sometimes, as a result, getting bee nests caught in their hair). Somebody let me go. I'm in misery. <b>by Kindle | |