Pins and Needles

I remember when I was little, I had just started sewing and had a new set of metallic sewing pins. I thought they were so pretty, and when no one was looking I snuck off with them to play. I had lots of fun arranging and rearranging them in pretty patterns on my bedroom floor, when suddenly I dropped a handful and six of the pins pricked my hand, making little red dots which swelled into large spots of blood. It hurt so much I wanted to scream, but I silently packed up and sucked my hand to stop the bleeding. Later that night my baby sitter asked what I had done to hurt myself but I kept my silence. Keeping my silence has been a thing with me my whole life, I don't think I could share my innermost secrets even if I wanted too. I even fib in truth or Dare games, I HATE doing truths, but I'll do any Dare.

Zoo

I feel like an animal in a victorian zoo, trapped in a tiny cage, trapped behind bars. I want to get out but If I did where would I go? I feel confined by the unspoken rules of modern ediquite, restrained by forces I can feel, but cannot see. How did the current rankings of everyday teenagers come to be? Is there anyway to topple the forces of the popular? The unknow is still out there and still undiscovered. You know who your true friends are when you make a move for them to back you up in, then turn around and find yourself alone. To avoid danger in life, we must live alone with the door locked and the curtains closed. I am a fly, drifting towards a light, confused and entranced. With out my writing I would fall to peices, am I going mad? Writing to no one, and writing to everyone. Where is the exit from this tangled labyrinth of my mind? Scared yet brave, in a group yet alone, all my thoughts contradicting eachother in one big whirl pool of unhappyness.
Softly falling, silently drifting off in to the unkown of my world.