When i was young, i remembered sitting and laughing at everything. Nothing seemed to bring me down. I thought the insults were jokes and the cold stairs were funny faces, i only know now that those girls who would snicker and laugh wern't my friends, and the buses my step dad calved on me and my brothers skin wern't a common punishment for staying up too late. i only really new when my brother met that nice girl in high school and would run away to hers early in the morning through my window while i covered for him.

looking back, i realized I'm not alone. i'm not the only one who came from one hard place and ended up in another, a place with due dates, judgmental kids and the sudden talk of bills and work. worried if we looked to ugly or too pretty to be a pretty boy of a ****. watching every word slip out our mouth before we say them.

so we built up a shield of friends, with common interests personalities and above all, respected each other. things were good. then great. then horrible. slowly we watched our friends drop like flys. not because they didn't like us, or moved away. but we didnt like the person they changed into. weather becoming selfish and making problems worse, or they just wont stop lying to us. we watch them fall. and we fall to. weather from loves that stag like thorns or people we trust biting our weakest parts and watch us crumble to dust and blow away.

the teachers dont understand how you can go from good one second and bad the next, or why we can kiss a boy and then a girl. thinking that if they see you crying in a hallway alone its better to take you somewhere you dont want to be and make it worse, and when were drowning, they give up and watch us sink saying "i did my best".

was your best sitting back enjoying your pay rises every time a kid fell so far that they were no longer here? saying "i tried, there's nothing els i could do.

at knight out insecurities watch us with glowing eyes because no one bothered to check under out beds or closets and we just hide under out blankets and whisper "maybe if i hold my breath it will be gone".

well were not six anymore. and we cant give up while were up so we give up while were down. we stay down. creating art on our skin like empty canvases and fill our lungs with poises, growing bitter attitudes and spitting venom at anyone who pretends to care.

i hope there pretending... but... who would care... right...?

so we scare anyone who looks out way in fear that they'll lead us out our hard shells and laugh at whats inside, wishing like hell that our lives could end up like a fairy tails or some movie where after so much pain we finally see the light.

so we have a choice. end the poor dears suffering, or help it get back on its feet and run, run and find what its meant to to. and if it falls we will be right there beside, cheering it on and helping it find its way.

after all... it could get better. we just have to wait and see.