I look around, and see my world.
It offers me peace, friendship, family, love.
I see how, around me, it has curled.
I look at it again, and shove.
It cracks.
I see past the wonderful colors swirling around me.
The darkness whipping around outside moves me to pull back.
From that pain, I am glad to be free.
Years pass.
My world is dimming, ever so slightly.
Then I take a new class.
I look at my world, trying too hard, shining too brightly.
I watch as the bright glow covers the gaping holes.
I learn more, and more and I watch as they grow.
This darkness that I see outside, it hurts my soul.
I chip away at the false light using my newfound knowledge as ammo.
I look outside and for the first time, I truly see.
I have led a very sheltered life, and one of the classes that I am taking right now has really opened my eyes to the world around me. This piece of writing is mostly about how a few years ago death visited both of my grandpas, which opened up a new part of emotions that I had never experienced before. Pretty soon after that happened, emotions weren't that big anymore. I just sort of turned off that part of me. Sure, I still feel angry, happy, or sad, but I never feel anything that really strikes me and is memorable. Almost anything that happened around me was quickly forgotten and not really cared about. I now am taking a class that shows many different parts of the world, both the good and the bad. This class combined with how the world is changing around me and becoming more and more violent has led to me creating art. I haven't really been able to properly express myself through drawing like usual, so I have turned to writing as well.
