Its funny. . . in a sick way. I sit in a circle with my friends chatting and conversing, just hanging out maybe having a few beers after doing some work. They laugh and have fun and so do I. But, they will never know, know anything about where I have come from. Sure they might be able to guess or notice that a few things about me are off, but they will never know, that under my shorts were more scars than one could count, that my body isn’t all beat up because I was clumsy kid. They will never know what I have went through what I lived through and what I had to do to make it to where I am today. I don’t mean to sound like a little bitch right now, but it’s my past, it’s where I came from, and they will never know, it’s a secret that I will hide and die with.
So to my friends and those that loved me, I’m sorry that you will never know the true me, the boy who hides beneath it all, who never had a real childhood, fights to keep his past a secret everyday, and misses terribly the girl he drove away because of it. I’m sorry I can’t be normal (if there even is such a thing).