-Dreams?

[Words to Image. What does the picture make you think of? What's its story. Leave it up the the viewer's imagination and this is what I come up with. This is what I do for fun. I write the story I see. Enjoy]

Dear diary:

My mother didn't want me. My father did but I wouldn't let him. He doesn't try anymore. I might have been born into trash but I do have some dignity. My friends tell me I'm pretty but I've always felt very ugly inside. No, wait ... that's a lie. I have no friends. I paint myself, not to stand out in a crowd, but to blend into the darkness. Because I feel invisible, as clear as glass. People always look right through me. Unless I catch their dirty eye, that is. If I'm going to be this way, perhaps I should look like it, a chameleon. And now, everything I've ever known is no longer a part of my life. That might sound tragic to you, but is it really? I feel like I'm in a better place. I have these four concrete walls that are just as painted as I am. I have visitors that always stop by for a quick bite to eat. And I have a better outlook on life. Nothing seems to phase me, anymore. I'm always in a chill frame of mind and no one ever hurts me. I do lose days at a time, every now and then. But I make them up when times are good. I've found a way to squeeze thirty-eight hours into a twenty-four hour day and all it cost me is whatever I can make from the sale of whatever I can find. I love my newfound inner peace. Although, it does burn from time to time. But that's okay, it's nothing that I can't handle.

Dear diary/Day 2:

I read a sign last week that asked, 'What are your dreams in life?'

Funny, I'm not exactly sure what it meant. Maybe, one day I'll understand it.

Dear diary/Day 3:

The nights can be cold and neighbors can be scary. But they never hurt me. They help me reach my chill frame of mind. Unless I catch their dirty eye, that is. Sometimes I have to remind them. But then I have to find new neighbors and that's not very chill. But, that's okay, it's nothing that I can't handle.

Dear diary/Day 4:

I once fasted for an entire week and lost a bunch of weight. I'm not sure how much, I just know my clothes were way loose. I was six days in and thought it might be over when I managed to aquire a bowl of soup. I let my guest have it, though. They're not as picky as I am. Better that way. I think their stomachs are stronger.

Dear diary/Day 5:

I walked by that sign again, today. I still don't know what it means. Perhaps, I will eventually figure it out. Maybe I should ask.

Dear diary/Day 6:

I had a faint memory today. I remembered playing with someone older than me, a boy. We swung and played tag but that was all I know. Quick 10 second memories of each. He kinda looked like me, but I do not remember what ever happened to him. Strange.

Dear diary/Day 7:

I saw that sign again, today. This time I went inside to ask. They just stared at me and then threw me out. I guess I'll never know what it means. That's okay, it's nothing that I can't handle. At least I feel chill.

Dear diary ... I want something better.

[One never knows what another is battling. Their world may not fit your understand. Their days might not play-out like yours. Their outlook on like might be a result of the memories they cannot suppress. And their understanding of having a dream in life could possibly be non-existant or feel completely unreachable. If this is you ... please, reach out to someone you trust and color your world differently. You're worth it!

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