The World

People tell me I'm crazy all the time. Some part of me believes that, but another part doesn't. I do make sense, but only to myself. My thoughts and emotions are very taken care of and well placed. I think things through carefully and unionized but when I try to express them they don't come out correctly. So maybe in that sense I am crazy, maybe that's why I can only express myself through art and scripture. Maybe that's why I think no one understands me. I do try to help people understand me, but they get too confused, too frustrated to keep trying. So I know that when people are my friends and love me for who I am, I know they truly care for me or they just see the mask that I've become so good at putting up. In that group of people there really are only a hand full who see me for who I am. Who have forcefully come up to me and ripped off that mask, made me show them who I am or even convinced me to take it off for them. Those are my true friends, those are people I call my family. Even if they're not related to me in anyway we find we have a mutual understanding that we will always be with one another, it doesn't matter where we are, what we're doing. Just that we are alive and striving for a better tomorrow. That we'll be there to help each other up. That we we'll be there at a funeral for a family member of that person, even if we didn't know them. That we will cry when they get hurt and we will rejoice when they get better. That is a family and I am finally happy to say I have found one.