I’m trying so hard. But nothing I do seems enough. I lose sleep thinking of ways to fix, correct, undo, delete, and destroy the ideas you have of me, and the misconceptions that you have of my mannerisms, thoughts, and self. I’m getting back to the old me. When I thought I was there I get a door slammed in my face. There can never be a change to the canvas if you don’t have a medium to use. If you don’t give a second chance, you can not see the true potential a person, a place, a piece of artwork or anything else may actually have. You can not see through a blindfold and you can not see reality when you shut your eyes. Who can see the result of the day if they never woke up? I have never hated you, yet you hate me. With your hand you see fit to destroy something wonderful, with no remorse or care at all. No pain. But there are people who do feel pain. And I am one. I feel I am hated because I am me. I have not asked you to not be you. That’s what you want of me. I can not give you that. I will not give you that. What you ask is inhuman.
