All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Masks
I sit alone under the sycamore tree wondering what it feels like to hate yourself
To loathe your very existence
To dream of putting yourself six feet under, the only place you feel like you truly belong
I don't think you can really know a person until you can count their scars
Whether they be mental blocks, things they've done to themselves or things you can't even imagine going through
The conclusion I have come to is a rather depressing one;
I will never know what it's like to feel like the outsider, the freak
The storm cloud in a sea of suns
I'll never know what's behind my friends carefully constructed masks
I can only hope that they let me in enough to read their warning signs
So as I sit alone
Consumed by my own thoughts
Dreaming with my eyes open
I take a slow breath in and let it out
As I come to terms with the fact that I will always be ignorant
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
"You never know a person until you can climb inside their skin and walk around in it."
-Atticus Finch