Life of a teenager
School was great; it was my release from life. I had a lot of friends, I was popular, I was in orchestra, leadership, choir, French, drama, dance, president of a couple clubs, and an active member of many other clubs. I was one of the most active students in school. I was not only the class clown, but also the person that you would go to if you needed advise or to talk. But, as soon as I started my journey home my whole life crashed to the ground. As I walked the half-mile down Piedmont Road, and then the left turn and another half mile up Noble Avenue, I would sing of my feelings. Even though I have what every person thinks every kid wants, I would sing of how I would always be the best friend, and I would never have a special someone. Nothing but a state of mind and an opinionYou are everything I could ever wantI could say, "There's nothing more I could ask for"In my opinion there is no-one better for meBecause no-one has a more beautiful face
They saw the sore, still cut open, a couple still bleeding, cuts on my arm. She asked one of the on-school officers to step into her office, and she told him that she though I might be cutting myself and he told me that by law they are allowed to make for certain that I was not harming myself, and that if I was, I would be put in an institution for personal counseling, because if I was harming myself, it could lead to me harming other people. Cold, lonely, and no one around to tell you that you are loved. When I am with my friends most every time those feelings fade away. sappearsAnd only you matterOnly your voice I hearAnd when you look at meEverything that was dark becomes brightAnd everything that was bright - the sky, the sun, the moon, the ocean, and the starsBecomes frozen in timeAs I only focus on youUnable to comprehend that you are mine One of the many poems I wrote while in "The cave", talking about my perfect person. Where nobody knew about my problems, they only knew about my fake feelings, they knew the fake Travis. I sat down and we began talking, first about my classes, then about the clubs, and other activities that I participated in, finally, she got to asking me about my life at home. In my mind it fit me, black was what my heart felt, what my mind had turned into. Asking questions such as "How are your parents doing? How are they taking the fact that you are gay? Are they accepting?" And I would respond as if nothing was wrong. I cut, cut all of my body parts, and I would lie there, and watch the blood drain from my wrists, or my legs, or chest. They were like the family that I never had. The cold of "the cave" numbed my body and my mind. Everything was created in "The cave", a place so far away, so dark, and cold the damp air stung my nostrils every time I had breathed in the air. Falling MirrorAlone again in this desolate land Nothing changes, it all stays the same You look for something you can never find A small hope of peace in the storm around Everyone leaves you in the dark Where the monsters of your heart await Ready to steal you back to hell The only place you know so well The mirror breaks and falls Shattered dreams upon the floor Spilling your blood with your hopes A bleeding soul is all that remains The darkness comes again to me A long lost friend returning me home Within this place I feel consumed A long dark road I have to roam Forever alone without a hope A drop of blood falls to the floor Joining the last hopes of your life Scattered in the dust by the door The mirror breaks and falls Shattered dreams upon the floor Spilling your blood with your hopes A bleeding soul is all that remains An open doorway into the dark beyond A place to be lost and alone The invitation to return where I once was No emotions to cloud my mind Just the burning coldness of eternity A place I know from my past It welcomes me home again Like a long lost lovers embrace The mirror breaks and falls Shattered dreams upon the floor Spilling your blood with your hopes A bleeding soul is all that remains The mirror breaks and falls Shattered dreams upon the floor spilling your blood with your hopes a bleeding soul is all that remains Also as I walked I would think about all of the mistakes I made during the day, in the week, month, year, in my life. As soon as my parents came for "therapy" the whole tables turned, it was like the counselor had never spoke to me, she didn't care.
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Acceptance Essays
