You remember way back when life was simple. When drawing inside the lines was an amazing feeling and putting the last piece on the puzzle was like winning a trophy. You put that crown on the top of your hair with the tutu across your hips and spin around so all the colors and feelings are soon blurry, and you are finally at peace. Running down the stairs when Daddy got home was the best feeling in the world, while Mommy was reading fairy tales before you fell asleep, but always allowed yourself those 10 extra seconds to wish and dream.

But once time passes by while your locked in room, you create shield around your body because everything is changing. And no matter how far you stretch your fingers, your hands will never be big enough to catch all the pain you want to endure.

And the green walls keep getting smaller, the book shelves become more cluttered, the gold curtains no longer look regal, the mirrors on your night table are just another red flag telling you that you aren't pretty, and the pictures framed on your desk just make you feel worse, because you know lost a piece of it.

You try to escape the room, but even when you go outside all you can hear is the wind whispering, slowly creeping into your ears and infecting your throat. Soon it starts chasing its way down into your lungs, and punching you in the stomach 5 times, finally creating a lasting scarf of cold air around your neck, chocking you, pulling you to the ground.

And you want to fight it. But you can't. But finally you walk back into your house only to hear her crying. And no matter how hard you try to change her, you know that nothing will change her. Her tears are full of anguish, and even though you see her pain, you feel ten times worse than she does, because the only thing thats worse than crying is seeing someone you love cry. And the pain slowly makes its way to your fingers and your toes, without caution or warning. But you know there is no reason to be careful or realistic anymore, for there are no limitations of being human.

And you sit in a dark room that flooded in light, looking through pictures. And you let every single piece inside of you to hold back the tears, but that picture of you sitting on daddy's shoulders while mommy was laughing makes something click inside of you, and your tears create a fort of water. And even though your tears are cries for help and attention, the only thing it does is make an even higher and deeper barrier between dreams and reality.

You should know who you are by now. You walk the empty streets somehow, his voice is the splinter inside you while you wait. You remember the sound of December and November. You think about the muscles inside you that question and quiver and shiver and sleep, and about the voices flowing through your body that cause shakes and screams.

Your mumbled words are as hopeless as the moonlight, cold and faded, because your misery lost you all you wanted. Your alone, and it that feelings burns straight to your bone.

When you were little, everything was at your fingertips. Every time you asked for that new Barbie or that new necklace it would always magically appear on your bed the next morning, while Mommy and Daddy would smile because they knew how happy you were.

But you wish that wasn't always the case, because one morning you wake up to drugs and drinking and cursing and stealing and failure, and Mommy and Daddy can't make things better in the morning. And your at a loss of words, because its the first time you actually need to take charge in your life. And you realize that the closest thing you'll get to superman is someone trying to step on your cape.

You wish you weren't so quiet all the time, because no one could really ever figure you out. You didn't mean to push everyone away, it was just something that naturally slowly occurred while you were too busy playing your piano and reading your poetry.

And sitting on your knees closing your eyes wishing for the pain to escape your soul and just drift into the open air, no longer plaguing you, became a very common activity. And you sit and you cry because unfortunately nothing really changes, and no matter how hard you try to make sense out of anything and everything, you can never come to a conclusion.

And from the surface nothing is wrong, everything is perfect, and that makes you even more crazy because you can't come up with a concrete reason for your sadness, only abstract unclear emotions that no one can grasp.

Life isn't as simple as a math problem, and math problems aren't even simple. Life isn't as easy as 9 42 minute periods. Life isn't as predictable as the dumb high school parties your friends force you to go to, and each time it gets worse and worse.

Our words are just our costumes. But slowly we need to learn that we need to take that costume, and decorate it. And everyday of heartbreak and tragedy, and every night of smiles and laughter, is just our costume fittings, and one day, our costume will be perfectly fit, with our true colors.