December 16, 2013

For some reason I expected to have a good life.
A happy life.
A wonderful life.
A beautiful life.
But life has been poisoned by the thoughts of other people.
The mean ones knock us down and run us over.
The good ones lift us up with lies to encourage us and make us believe.

For some reason I expected more out of life.
I expected a boyfriend,
A car,
A sweet sixteen,
And the best friends that anyone could ask for.

But life pushed me off my high horse and has been dragging me in the dust ever since.

For some reason I expected to be good at what I love in life.
A beautiful singer.
A skilled percussionist.
An amazing actress.
An artist who is flawless.
But life is not fair to me.

For some reason when I thought I was depressed, I expected to want to end my life.

Drugs.
Self-harm.
Suicide.
Aren't they all the same?
But life inspired me to write, whether they were poems or songs.
I didn't know what was going through my mind.
I still don't know what is going through my mind.

For some reason I expected life to keep me sane.
I didn't expect the books.
I didn't expect the movies.
I didn't expect the TV shows.

I didn't expect my 11-year-old mind to start dreaming crazy scenarios that could never happen.

But life gives me my unstoppable imagination.

For some reason I expected to have motivation in life.
I have none.