Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

Mom always said it was just because I have a writers mind. 
What kind of mind is that? 
"We are all different" 
Yeah heard all that before. 

Human beings are aware, they are conscious. Communication is crucial as a social being. I hear everyone's thoughts out loud as they speak, I notice all the lies.  
Sorry, I didn't mean to disappear, I swear I was listening but you know those voices in your head can be really loud, or is that just me? 
They all say, "You're crazy!" 
No I'm not, you have a voice in there too. 

Ignored or forgotten, deep down it's in there. 

Remember as a kid we told all these wonderful things that turned out they weren't even real? 

First time feeling of being betrayed and hurt. Walls began to build, Ignorance truly is bliss. 23 and finally get what that means on a personal level. 

"Be yourself" we've all heard that before. Oh, why so you can judge me, be condescending and project your feelings onto me? 

You have a writers mind. Sounds nice. 
The imagination as a kid was much larger than it is now, in my mind. 
In my mind, trust was cracked so much it shattered into a million voices of insecurity, skepticism, fear and negativity. 

I'm crazy? No, I have my story, you have yours. Your voice was forgotten, your voice has been lost in the labyrinth of walls you built, repressed memories locked in a world you keep a lock on hidden away. You built your walls to separate you from whatever it is but not from reality. 

I just have a writers mind. 
When I built my walls, so selfishly causing me to build myself behind so many walls only to lock myself in that world you're outside of. 

You're like a prison guard, not in prison but there often. I've made these walls for protection, only to become a prisoner. Intentions were good, so I thought. 
Oh I forgot, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 
Protection from the outside, that was the goal, success. 

I picked the lock to that world heavily bunkered far away, only to become a repressed part of its forgotten memories, time has stopped as I am reliving it all. This is hell. 
But I created this, I'm not god. I just have a writers mind. 

I tell myself that a lot, takes me back to when my mom first said it....

*Alarm goes off* 
Opens eyes. 

Signed,

ThoseMeaningfulWords. VH.