It’s hard to understand how people can do something that hurts you so much do it so casually. But wait? I guess they just don’t get it. I shouldn’t expect everyone to see things the way I see them. Because that’s about as equal as asking them to learn a new language. Is it just me or does every soul have their own language, with different accents and spellings? I know it’s true because just like how one letter can change a word and it’s meaning, one event in a person’s life can change them and their meaning, their purpose. What if it wasn’t just one single event, but your family’s history, your friends actions, or even a chemical in balance? I guess all of that doesn’t just change one letter, it changes the whole damn word.
I still remember that fence. Looking at it when I was only five, I always wondered, why do we have a jail fence in front of my daddy’s house? I guess I didn’t understand a lot of things my dad did. It was only a couple years later when I found out my dad had this disease called Bipolar and PTSD. What is that? I always thought to myself when I was just eight years old. My grandma told me Bipolar is just when a person’s brain isn’t right and they’re emotions are on a roller coaster. When she put it like that I thought it was cool. Who wouldn’t anyone wanna be on a roller coaster all the time? Most of my confusion came when my dad told me he was moving away a couple hours away to another house. I didn’t get why he had to move.
Growing up, you figure out what you like and what you don’t like. You figure out who you want to be around and who you don’t want to be around. Not too long ago I finally realized what it is that gives me a stomach ache when I here people I know talk about it or doing it. I hate drugs. Marijana in particular. I’ve always despised it. Why does someone have to smoke? I see no purpose what so ever to do it. I know I’ve always hated it but for the longest time I tried being “cool” about it...
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