It’s amazing how much is said that goes unheard. Even more amazing that it’s more ignored than unheard. Purposefully but without much thought. If she can’t be the happy girl, then she’s a drag. Boring. Downer. And my favorite...negative. But when my light is on and I can help, I’m the life of the party. I’m great and smart and optomistic. Certainly a better person to be around. But plastic. But then I came to realize most others are plastic. A world full of shiny skin and fake smiles. I am not sure when, but somehow I picked up the torch and cannot put it down. It’s glued to my skin like a childs project. I always think that I should or can stop. Stop being there and be idle. Let the world blow up around me. But that’s not me. I wish I knew why people cannot recognize the similarity. When they have a bad day, they experience it. They break. As they should. Why then are those people confused when you are broken. Is it so uncomfortable that they have to walk by the shards of glass as if they never existed? I hope one day a shard gets stuck in their heels as they walk by. Maybe then they’ll remember they can still feel.