It’s simple, too good to be true. The best things never last. As I peek out of my hole from underground I start to see the world for what it is. And it isn’t pretty. And it isn’t lovely. It’s real. And reality is what you make of it, so I make mine. I want to see it with filtered lenses, to only view the lovely and the pretty. I have been hiding, a shadow to society, and I don’t want to show my features for them to pin me down and hunt me out. I want to stay hiding away from this world that couldn’t be mine. It can’t be.
I didn’t know there were such things as cuss words until second and third grade. I didn’t know a lot of things as a child, and I still don’t know now, as a slightly larger child. I would instead like to once again be wrapped up in my mother’s arms, play with bubbles in the backyard, swim like a seal in the small blow up pool or run in the sprinklers. To have my brain wiped and start all over again. I guess you can call me the sensitive shadow, because even when I hide everything touches me, gets beneath my skin, and it burns. This world burns. So I would like to stay a sensitive shadow please.