Keiden Rhym

This is a story I wrote about a girl I loved but wasn't in love with
a very long time ago.
(This story should not be taken as gospel to represent my current writting, but it is something dear to me and feed back is appreciated.  Additionally I was using a small tablet at the time so I expect there to be a fair number of auto corrects and missspells that I will try to sort out soon.)
Hello everyone. or hello no one,
 Depending on how this pans out.
You guessed it, I'm the infamous Keiden Rhym,
Why else would I be in this Chapter?
That's Key-den  by the way.

I am nothing more then what I pretend to be.
almost 21 years of age and not getting any younger.
Music is my soul. or at least it would be if I had one.
Art and Photography is my passion and life.
skateboarding with head phones in is my therapy when there is no Passion in life.
 
 Heaven or hell?
Hell.
I don't think I'd know what to do with myself if I made if up to the pearly whites with all the nice people.

"There's heaven for the cruel but the devil waits for the kind."
That would be Passenger Look them up.
 
When I was young younger,
I was a bit of a wreck,
I don't really know how to put it, or even what term I should use.
That's Interesting.
You'd think I'd have run it through my head enough to at least come up with something.
  some way to describe myself.

But I don't, so I'll just tell you what they called me.
Strap in its a long list.

First I had some kind PTSD,
Then they said I was autistic,
schizophrenia?
after that I had aspergers,
or maybe I was just bipolar.
Then after all that, I was libeled with severe depression.
  There was always some kind of emotional disturbance.

But there were never any doctors.
Just whispers and accusations.
The people who diagnosed me were everywhere.
Classmates, teachers, Foster parent after foster parent,
The list could go on forever.

That's what I remember most, 
being just a kid and being treated like I was infectious.

just sad fragile little Keiden.
nothing more.
just depressed little Keiden he'll always be nothing.

I remember the stares,
the whispers and laughter.
and the pointing,
no one even bothered to to it behind my back.
I don't feel things like you, so I must feel nothing at all.
right?

Then I remember the invisibility of it all
Being in a room full of people, and not one of them willing to meet my eyes
Anywhere but at Keiden.  anywhere but in his eyes,
What were they so scared of?
that one second of meeting my eyes in a stare might drag them in and they would fall never to come back out? doubt it,
See that's the kind of things crazy people think about.
The kind of things I think about I guess...


Now, let me tell you why they did this.
Random things used to make me so sad.
little things,
sometimes things that would make other people happy.
I was anxious all the time, other times
paranoid
and this would cause panic attacks, And a feeling that the whole world was falling part right in front of me.
But mostly.
All the sudden, any time or day.
randomly sometime, sometimes I just knew at a certain point in the day....I'd break whatever wall or veil I hid behind.
I'd just go off.
And Joy and sadness and the most crushing rage,
 all at the same time would rush into my world and block out everything else.
And I'd feel so overwhelmed, sometimes I'd fall down and just cry my eyes out, once they had to sedate me because I forgot to breath and started turning blue,
other days I'd wake up and be instantly crushed by the sadness It seemed like I'd never move to get ready for school.
and other times I felt like I might be high, everything just seemed so prefect.
for obvious reasons those days were my favorite.
Then their was the worst of times.
When everything seemed wrong, in the sickest of ways.
Rage is all I can say about those days, just rage.
nothing else.

Now why am I dragging you through all this baggage?

Because I need you to know how Important she was is.
 
Despite everything wrong with me, the first time I saw her,
The first time she saw me.
none of it mattered to her.

she didn't hate me like everyone else,
didn't even pity me,
She was just her,
and I was just me.

when she left. she left me with a raw naked feeling I hated but almost loved.
when I try to think about it I picture it the way a person who cuts might feel about their scars.
Always hidden under long selves. In shame or just a secret pain,
or maybe uncovered and worn proudly as a sign screaming out of the world "This is how bad I got before.
this is how good I am now"
sort of thing.


See this girl is reason I'm the me I am now,
probably the reason I'm still alive.
She fixed made me whole and She is my everything.

It's been four years and 201 days.
I still miss her.


A/N
Thank you for reading.
now this is my first story so please bare with me.
song for the end of this chapter is Passenger- Caravan
Listen to it or don't
Thank you for reading.