My life seems great to someone who has ' made up issues'.
My life seems great because I have family who care.
My life seems great to someone looking in from the outside.

My life is my own and I choose how I want to live it.
My life is more complex then others would understand.
My life is full of pain I hide because people don't get me.

My pain is my own as is the way I choose to deal with it.
My heart is mine to giveaway but my to maintain.
My mind is mine to stimulate, but it is mine to share.

My story is mine and mine alone, My view is that off someone who's been broken from an early stage in life, due to an absent father, a life off bulling, a bunch of fake friends and an ex-husband who was unfair and unjust in his way towards me at the end of our life.

My story I share because sometimes it hurts to hold it in. My pain is something I hide from the world because they don't want to hear it.

Where do I go from here? Who am I anymore? Why do I care for those who could careless for me? Who am I alone?