I’ve seen too many things painful in my lifetime. Too many painful memories. When I was in sixth grade, I learned of a type of music called screamo, and a type of people called emos. I loved being a part of them, they actually felt more human than others. I got bullied for hanging out with them, liking the songs/bands. My dad almost went to jail, and he was the only one who could make me smile at that point. My mum vocally abused me, so the scars would be in my heart, not skin. My dad was the only thing I had. After awhile my friend who battled depression and lost, she told me the last thing I heard from her;
“the freedom is waiting for you in the breezes of the sky, and you ask,” what if I fall?” But oh darling, what if you fly?”