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I am one
I’m an angel, I’m a devil, I am something in between. I’m as bad as it can get, as good as can be.
-Hilary duff: I am
Theres one think you need to know before you continue reading. A lot of this stuff isnt shown and all of it is real.
I am one, I am am many, I am you, I am me
If you grow up being told how cute you are, how much like your mother you are, you begin to doubt it. Want to erase it. Make your own name for yourself that’s not tied with your mother’s or accented with surupy sweet drops of cuteness. And I did. I made a name for myself. I’ve been kicked out of more beauty pagents than I can count, scraped up my entire body, pushed the limits of my own sanity. I am no longer mommies little cute angel.
I am a shapeshifter. I flit about ilke smoke. Filling cracks and sliding through openings any chance I get. I mirror not only what I want to see, but what they do as well however different it may be and I take delight in watching your face when you think you have me and ‘BAM’ just like that I change. I fit in everywhere, yet no where at the same time. I spend so much time partaking in shifting that I have no clue where I truly belong. I’ve hidden my true self so far down under mounds and mounds of junk, whale insulation one day, jewelery so shiny it creates prisims every movement the next and so on and so on that I lost sight of who I truly am. I should feel afraid that one day I am going to forget and truly turn into smoke, but I’m not. I welcome it. I’ve wanted so badly to stand out, be different, fit in, that I finally shall.
But even through all that, bits of me still poke through. Tiny spindles of irridescent, delicately spun glass broke through my defense, my brick wall of changing. But you know, I don’t think I’ll trade them in just yet.
I am creative. I am unique. No that’s not the right word. I’m odd. I’ve got a devious mind and I’m not afraid to use it. I am a poet. An artist. A dreamer, thinker, discoverer, discoverer. A wonderer, a hoper, a prayer, a magic bean buyer. Wait, that’s from Come in by shel Silversein. Oh well. I probably would buy magic beans. I’m just that…unique. I’m always creating poems, starting but never finishing before moving onto a new story or comic that I got an idea of. Those tiny little spindles can do so much to me. They can burrow into my imagination, into my devious little mind, and make it go haywire. They can make me, for a split second, into the girl who sees a robot in a door opener at school, who laughs at nothing. It gets me looks, and not the ones I’m used to, but that’s okay. For when those quick burst happen, until I can sed in troops to quelch the attack, I feel free for a bit no matter how weird I may look.
I was never bullied as a child. Not in the traditional sense at least. But I still feel the need to hide. I am reclusive, hidden and therefore naiive. I am a scared little girl who hides under shifting protection. I never let anyone in. Oh look what these spindles have done! Before they broke through, I was fearless; I would never be taken down. But now one little p***k with the spindle of fear and I’m quaking in my boots. I hide, knowing that the front I portray is the opposite of how I feel. I am constantly in my room. I write there, draw there. I can’t do it downstairs because I’m afraid that my parents will reject them. Yeah I have a fear of rejection. What of it? I think this was how it all started actually. I am naiive. Yeah that sounds about right, since I am hiding behind my mask I know not beyond what few things I observe.
And even though I am these things, spindles poking through a shield, I am clueless to me. This is what I know dear reader. I hope I do not dissapoint and I hope I do not dissappear.
Sometime’s I’m a million colors
Sometimes I’m black and white
I am all extremes
Try to figure me out you never can
There’s so many things I am
-Hilary Duff; I am
- by Eternal Tag |
- Non Fiction
- | Submitted on 05/18/2010 |
- Skip
![](https://graphics.gaiaonline.com/images/arena-images/ic_paper_corner_32x32.gif)
- Title: I am one
- Artist: Eternal Tag
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Description:
An essay I wrote for english last year. The prompt was "who are you" I'm kinda proud of it >_<
I do not own the lyrics, I put who they were by - Date: 05/18/2010
- Tags: eternaltag
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