Different

I couldn’t be like the other kids. I was different. My personality was built on a lie. My soul was confined to a tiny box nobody even knew existed. I didn’t get to experience the same things because I wasn’t allowed to. No freedom is given so none can be taken away. I’m different. Being so close to letting go and excited to finally make a decision of my own. I messed up not understanding that my actions have consequences that I can’t take back. Hurting everyone including myself too dumb to realize that it was me. Anger. The rage I felt that I could not contain it spewed out in forms to this day I’m not proud of. Regret. I can not think of how much regret I have. It sticks to me like a parasite feeding off every decision I make, growing heavier the more I grow. I’m different and I know I can’t change how the people that raised me and I can’t change how they’ve hidden me like a chameleon blending in with each color camouflaging me to fit into the background and fall off. I’m different but that’s not me I crave to be remembered for my differences not remembered for being different. No, they are not the same. I want to be remembered as somebody by nobodies for not fitting into society's box. Not remembered for growing up and being undereducated because the people meant to teach me the foundations of life failed. I need to leave my box but I don’t understand what it means not to be sheltered. I'm afraid that I will fail and I won’t be able to recover. At 15 I’m different and no it does not disappoint. It was expected privilege rolls off my forehead like sweat falling from my body. I’m different. I got a late start and before I realized it I was behind and put in an impossible situation. I can't remember what it feels like to be truly happy. But, I can’t say anything my mouth bound shut by the weight of acceptance. I cannot accept my flaws because I am different. I cannot be satisfied until I say that I fit in, but that’s never been the case. Shunned from the beginning of my life to the end I can’t take it. So, why do I still stand 5’4 inches away from the ground forcing myself to keep it up saying good job like it accounts for all my pain? It cannot compare. I am different. This I can no longer understand. They say my words move people, that I have the passion to break apart stones and move mountains, that I have the power to shake the very ground your feet stand on and make God look at his creations once again. Nobody could do what I’ve done for myself without caving to the pressure, so I finally admit it and I’ll say it again. 
I am different.