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If you knew me, you'd know who the boy is. Either way, read this... maybe you'll read what your feeling.. i dont know..


Submitted:Aug 24, 2012    Reads: 34    Comments: 2    Likes: 0   


Not The Reflection

Can I tell you a story? It's about this boy you see; you might even call this a true story. This boy has about everything you could imagine, friends, a perfect family, a perfect life, a perfect house, he's got it all.

Or does he? The boy walks down the street and people are always so nice to him. They would give him gifts; they would tell him what a nice and loving family he has. He would just simply smile and nod, for he knew what nobody else did.

He knew what really happened, he knows who everyone really was, and he knew how he really was. Sure he had everything you might say, or did he really only have objects that could be taken away and replace in the blink of an eye?

During his walk he would see this girl, a really shy and sweet young lady. She would always be in a crowd of other people who, shall we say not a good influence. Every time the Boy would pass the crowd of people, he'd lock eyes with the girl for a few seconds. Those few seconds, they were the only times he felt loved. Just for those few seconds, he had everything.

Now towards the end of his walks, the boy would walk to the outskirts of town to a pond in the middle of some trees. Every day he would look into the pond hoping that he would see himself. Instead he found something quite different.

He saw a monster, he saw a person screaming in pain. He saw the scars from cuts on their arms, he saw a person staring at a girl and falling in love. Not because of how she looked, he knew she was pure and golden, but that love never ever came. He heard the harsh words of a person's family; he felt the force of being slammed into the wall, he felt the worthlessness, the hopelessness, the self-hate, the fear, the anger, the feeling of rejection. What he saw was his true self, and he screamed.

The reflection in that pond showed his true colors. He wasn't a boy who had all this stuff; he wasn't a boy who had love. He is a boy who has lost everything.

Maybe we should take a walk sometime, and find a place to really look at ourselves. Maybe we're no different from that boy, we may even be worse. The only hope of ever getting out is belief. Belief, hope, something everyone is prepared to fight for. If we don't fight, we will all drown in that pond, never to see the sunlight, or the smile on our lover's faces. Don't break your body even though your heart may be broken, believe.





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