I used to not mind being the freak. Being laughed at. It bothered me a little but I knew that I had the strength to pick myself up. I thought that after I’d grown up, I would find happier things when I would be able to see the world. But the problem was, I wasn’t prepared to be crushed. I wasn’t expecting this to be all that I’m being prepared for. I thought I could live this dream, escape somewhere, far away from my nightmares that are no longer figments of my imagination. They are real. And the reality of these forces drives me to want to run away as soon as I can. It’s hard finding someone who understands these internal qualms. I’ve resorted to finding a voice in pictures, songs, poems, lyrics and spoken words. They say that if you want to create an epic, you have to suffer it and only then will it be an epic. I thought I was ready but many days ago I was sure that I wasn’t. Looking to each and every coming day for me seems to be a combination of horror and excitement, but confusion is ever-present.