And just for thought...
I am misunderstood, the cry of every generation, but we all have our bags.
My past remains guarded but not for dark reasons, not because of some dumb teenage tragedy.
There are plenty of reasons of why I keep my pain to myself, a mystery to you.
I am unable to speak of those days now long gone because of the joy that they once gave me.
In those days, I believed in tomorrows and rainbows, butterflies and ponies.
There was love and honesty and trust, there was trust.
So why then can I not speak freely, openly about my past?
Somewhere in that joy, in that trust, there was betrayal, the worst betrayal.
My rainbows died and my butterflies cried.
To remember the joy means I must remember the hopelessness.
At the end of the day, I'm just a girl who has been in love with writing her entire life. I am full of quirks, anxieties, fears, joys, laughter. And all I have wanted to do was give the world a smile.