A simple act of over-sleeping interpreted as a mischievous act of defiance. 'Red eyes!?', they'll say, ' Must be from the drugs she's using!'. The thought of the reason being just from over sleeping will never cross their minds. Because in their minds, you are a shadow of someone they think they know. The picture they paint of you isn't of someone finding their way, its of someone being nothing but rebellious. And once a pretty picture is painted and completed, all the ethanol in the world doesn't get you a new canvas now does it? So all you can do is dab it on, little at a time, hoping to make a change worth noticing in an infinite amount of time.
The people who were on the other line, trying to stop the tears, will be marked as the culprits. They will be known to bring nothing but bad shit into your life while in reality, you know if it weren't from them, the cabinet filled with sleeping pills would have had to be refilled way too often. And if it gets real bad, they might even try to keep away these friends away from you, sabotage your friendship or worse. Make them leave you. You'd be surprised how easily that can be done when wanted with all heart and soul. And after a while, when you learn to numb shit out, live inside a safe bubble, those people will device new methods to wear your bubble thin. You'll be constantly worried that they might break through and destroy the little of you left, so you run. Not just away from them, but every possible way you imagine they can reach you. And yes. Your imagination will get the better of you sometimes, but its a choice you make repeatedly. Cause you think to yourself, its better to be irrational and think of EVERY possible way they can cause you pain and put up a sheild, instead of leaving the door open for even a little pain to creep in. Cause even that littlest bit might be too much, well at least now.
When the world trusts you, holds your promises true, confides in you cause they believe your integrity, 'they' will see nothing but dishonesty. A mystery. Unwinding bad deeds. False intentions. Fake promises. A terror story in all honesty. No matter how much grief you take on, they'll give you more cause from where they see, it affects you little, or they just see plain ignorance. If only they knew the routine acts behind closed doors that prove otherwise.
I guess its ironic that way. Spending a lifetime to earn the love of the 'loved ones'. To want nothing more than for them to just..see. Who you are, what you do after a sad movie, or which time of the day you get lonely, or which bloody song makes you smile, or just to learn to differentiate disappointment in yourself, from anger or acting out on them. The littlest things that make you, well you.
Its nothing like being betrayed, or hurt or even left. Its an unparalleled pain. With time it becomes the constant headache you grow accustomed to. Not realizing its the source of all the other little darkness you draw in. A pain often unrecognized and more often, untold.
There is no pain greater and dearer, than being misunderstood by the ones you hold dearest.
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