Pinkish

When I was the age of five, i was asked "what do you want to be when you're older?"

I always said something like "a princess" or "cinderella". 

But at the age of ten, I was asked that question againn, and yet many more times through those five years that werent mentioned. 

I told my mother "I'd like to be a doctor." 

and she believed in me until I was twelve and said "I want to be a soildier." 

She was unimpressed obviously because what parent is proud of their child for doing some good for the country right? 

and I am sorry to say it only got worse.

I was a construction sight being built up day by day.

My thirteenth birthday, one of my walls came crashing down. 

Heart Wrenchingly my mother told the government to hire an excuvation crew to break down my walls, 

But then people started telling me what I was going to be. 

"You're going to be an amazing writer someday." 

"You should be in Special Education classes."

"You should be an astronomer spending days counting stars because you aren't going anywhere for a while. 

But then what happens when I grow up I want to be dead?

I was then fourteen years old, starting therapy in eighth grade, my schedual was defined on pills and medications,

my hearing was defined by what music i liked. 

I was pulling myself apart, I swear to god to this day I could count every spec of sand on my hard wood floor because i spent so much damn time in my room. 

I was left pondering on how to never leave any reminense of myself, 

I was found, and I was brought somewhere to make me happy but made the matter worse. 

But i have the proof of the pinkish lines, that have faded. 

That's My Side.

What's Yours?