this i believe

wrote this in 2011 for a class project to describe what makes me, me. a lot has changed since with the friend mentioned but my past hasnt so i believe i should still post this.

Remember the time when you had snack and nap times? Remember when you and your friends could worry on only what snack was going to be passed out today? When all you did was have fun?

 

I don’t.

 

I was the one who sat on the swings reading a book at recess. Never knowing what was going on around me. I would sit and softly swing with my eyes closed so I could be all alone floating above the clouds.

 

At a young age I learned that lying was helpful. I would lie to my parents continuously, acting like nothing was wrong. I would act like no one was bothering me.

 

This was a big mistake. I never knew then that if I held everything in that it would explode and harm others. I never knew that I would harm or even endanger another person. I could have never known that to release this built up force or tension would lead to me stabbing a girl in the hand with a sharpened pencil.

 

I smiled then, when I stabbed her. I smiled because I was free of tension. Others did not know this though. I got suspended.

 

I grew up always lying to others and to myself. I couldn’t even tell if half the things I said were lies or not because I believed in them all.

 

Years went by and I was still hiding. Hiding in lies. Hiding in myself. But I was hiding differently now, behind black clothes and chains. I wore dresses made of leather, black cotton, chains, and skulls. People thought that they knew me. They thought that I was a rebel, a punk trying to get attention. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

I tried to hide. I hid who I was. I hid what I really liked and what made me, me. I began to write stories and poems. Poems about hate and poems about fears. I would write them and threw them away. I guess it made me feel better when I released it. Even if no one saw.

 

I wrote and drew small happy things for people to see so no one could think anything was wrong. I kept to myself for years and I still do. But something changed.

 

I started to believe in things. I started to talk to someone about my life. And that one person that I believed in is coincidentally named Faith. She changed me. She made me come out of my shell that I hid in. I talked to others and I talked to God. She showed me the light, a new beginning, a new chance for me. I accepted it and slowly began to act “normal”. I made more friends. I prayed to God. It was not even a religious God. I made my own in a way. I believed in a God that always listened and let me be who I am. But there were so many rules in the modern religions that I could not follow them.

 

I went my own way and I always have ………..

 

I guess that this is what I believe.