I have dry skin that can't be cured with normal lotion, and because I don't like to cause trouble, I don't ask my mom for the lotion I need. 

 

My brother tells me that I can find symbolism in anything. 

 

Sometimes I think that the dry skin on my hands is old snake skin. I pretend that I'm growing as a person, so I need to shed off who I used to be. 

 

I have always loved stuffed animals, especially the ones that make cute noises when you press a button. When they stop making sounds and the buttons break, I don't throw them away. 

 

My brother tells me that I can find symbolism in anything. 

 

I don't throw my broken toys away because I know how it feels to be voiceless. Being voiceless means being defenseless. Being voiceless, means that people can hurt you, and say that you enjoyed it. 

 

Whenever things get too stressful, I get migraines. It always feels like someone is drilling into my skull. 

 

My brother tells me that I can find symbolism in anything. 

 

When I get migraines, I feel as though I'm being lobotomized. Everyone tells me that I feel too much, and that I need to calm down. Voices scream at me to learn my place, to shut up, to stop being so dramatic, to fit in. 

 

I am not myself. I am only aware of myself. I am more of an idea than a person. I am only mentioned in secret. I am only opened to be closed up more tightly. 

 

I do not show myself to others; I can barely show myself to me. To the world outside of this dark room, I am a stranger. I am a foreign book with no translation. 

 

The person that you know is not me. That person is nothing more than the cover of a book. It holds no importance to the meaning or the content. The person you are looking for is not out there. 

 

I am the man behind the curtain. I have been maestro to this orchestra long before anyone even sat down to listen. I have been here all along. I'm not asking for someone to look for me. I'm asking for someone to find me, and stay with me.