You

How different life can be through a child and an adults eyes.

You

By T. M. Art

The ones you hold closest are always the ones to hurt you the most and feel nothing in return. Loving them is futile because all it will bring is pain. Frustration is the only way they seem to be able to communicate. They make promises they never keep and turn their backs the first chance they get.

    People wonder why they are hated, why they are avoided. Those are questions not worth wasting a single breath on. What is the point of knowing the inevitable? People are liars, cheaters and beaters. They want to break your hearts and crush your spirits.

    Sometimes it’s hard to hide how you feel inside. Sometimes people really should though. Honesty can only get you so far, yet everyone still lies. No one is honest. No one cares. So sit in your corner in a world all your own while they fight, ignoring the reasons why because you are too young to care, too young to cry.

    Choices are hard, people make them worse. Left or right. Good or wrong. Me or him. Those aren’t things children need to hear, not things they need to see. You can sit and act happy, like those moments aren’t remembered, but they’re more prominent than the times you laughed and played.

    The cold, the voices of objects without mouths, friends never to be seen, and family too busy to believe. Childhood is a ride of emotions that only seems to get worse and worse the more you look back. The stories they tell you after the other leaves. The way they fight, yet they won’t leave. They wonder why they are alone, why the other’s are gone. They never ask the question if they are the problem, if they speaking and saying are the problem.

    Family is harsh, painful and full of lies. Filled with the things that happened before or the things you never actually understood. Fake smiles and broken laughs. Half stories and stabbing backs. No one questions because they don’t truly care. Minding your own business can get you far in life.

    Promises about happiness, like fresh snow on the old. Beautiful to gaze at, but painful to dance over. Cuts like glass and stings like electricity. The cracking noise that resounds in your mind as the words are spoken. Broken. No one but you can hear, because no one else cares if the heart of the child cracks. Surely the memories will be gone by the time they are grown.

     Wreaked futures by dark days. No one cared anyway. So you sit here now, writing this out, because you feel alone, you feel weak inside. Everyone can tell. You used to be strong, you once thought they cared, but then you saw that no one was there. Your friend was the wind and protection your pillow. The thing that you held at night that kept you safe from the insanity.

     Your heart was opened because you didn’t see, didn’t see the darkened shapes that haunted the faces of the people that loved you. That you belonged to. So you kept on, trying to be happy in a family that had already left that all behind.

     You didn’t ask to be here, to have to watch it everyday, but no one cares, they still blame each other anyway.

     So now you struggle to gain everyday things, everyone passes it off, tells you to try anyway. No one helps, they just complain, trying to make you give in. What was it all worth? The feelings that circle round, in your cracked and broken chest. Failure. Ignorance. Fear. Pain. Loneliness you’ve felt everyday.

     Friends were there, well you had many, but none of them stayed. They never said why, they would all just wave goodbye in their own way. You got older, you got quieter. People were cruel, they sneered and keened. There were no friends, no family, just lies. The things you told yourself to feel happy inside.

     So now it’s time to turn and face this world alone, only a shadow of that once happy little girl. Hand in hand with the wind and the lies, you’re just finding out how dark it is inside.

    Love is dead. Life is dry. Emotions are sick and too tired to try. People are pain. You look on, wondering how things might have been, but that’s only a dream of an imagination that fed you the things you once believed. Hoping for happiness in innocence.

    Time to move on now, no looking back. Life is passing by and you’ve already missed too much of it. People are cold, but you’re numb inside - or at least that’s what that innocence is singing, feeding you a new lullaby.

    So goodnight my child, I’ll see you soon. When tears are dried and feelings flourish. When the people disappear and it’s just you. With the wind by your side and the pillow to sheild you. Happiness will come, just watch and see. It’ll all be fine, after you leave.

The End.