How Shy Was I

Locations

23669
United States
37° 3' 6.2028" N, 76° 20' 5.2224" W

In grade 7, I had an idea.

A man.

He leads a tiresome, boring life,

And when he sleeps,

He escapes in his dreams.

How beautiful, I thought,

A man so in control of his dreams.

How sad, I thought,

A man trapped in his tiresome life.

How startling, I thought,

A man who is too scared to leave his dreams.

 Beautiful, sad, startling.

In grade 7, my friend leaned over my shoulder,

And asked,

“What’re you writing so fast for?”

I smiled proudly and told him,

“A beautiful story of a man who controls his dreams.”

And I patted my pages gently.

He snorted and he scoffed,

And he replied,

“That’s not beautiful.

Who would want to control their dreams?”

And I nodded.

In grade 8, my friend rested her head on my arm,

And asked,

“What are you writing?”

I smiled softly and told her,

“A sad story of a man trapped in his tiresome life.”

She shook her head,

And replied,

“No such thing as being trapped in a life.”

And I nodded.

In grade 9, my friend touched my hand,

And asked,

“What’s your story about?”

I frowned and told him,

“A startling story of a man who is too scared to leave his dreams.”

He grinned brightly,

And replied,

“That’s beautiful, and sad.”

And I grinned back.

In my life,

I was never confident to others.

I seemed meek, timid,

Shy, and scared.

My friends danced around me,

Like knives between fingers.

“She’s so sweet,”

They would say,

“But very shy.”

But they didn’t know,

They didn’t understand,

That I had tried.

I had tried!

My idea:

A man.

He leads a tiresome, boring life,

And when he sleeps,

He escapes in his dreams.

It was my idea,

But no one had seemed to enjoy it.

I was not shy;

I was criticized.

So I spoke no more of the man

Who lived in his dreams,

And dreamt in his life.

In grade 10,

My friends touched my back,

And asked,

“What ever happened to that man?”

I shrugged, and replied,

“He’s nowhere.

Trapped in his life, maybe.”

“How sad,” one sighed.

And I looked up sharply.

In grade 11, I clutched my friends hands,

And said,

“I finished my story,

The one of the man who lives in his dreams.”

They grinned and they smiled,

And they replied,

“Let’s hear it.”

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