If my heart stopped and I didn't wake up, I would be left wondering. I would be in a pale space. Nothing to see. Just lost. If you are stuck hoping that someone will love you, how can you love anyone? If you are always unsure then what is he point of living. If my heart stopped I would still breathe: Feeling nothing. I don't understand or know. I am clueless in the face of feelings. The comprehension of simple ideas will evade me.

Why? I will repeat that. Why? That is the only word I appear to know. When I meet anyone they can be boring. Feeling is impossible. Caution is nonexistent. I'm intoxicated with a feeling of nothing. I know, but I don't understand. I know this makes little sense.

I met someone who was mind-blowingly amazing, once. I wish I had stayed. They were perfect. To me. I was happy. They accepted all I was and didn't care that they didn't know who or what I would be. They said my past was my business. They said my future was their privilege.

Why didn't I stay? If people were described as simply as in books we'd be so incredibly readable. You fall as long and hard as possible and you can't simply recover. You are humiliated as much as possible. I was so unbelievably ordinary. They were a hurricane of beauty. Of course it was over. It was nobody's fault. I was so bland. I couldn't understand once again.

I held back all my life and to only one person I spilled everything. Of course they let others know. I was a freakshow on display. I was showcased day after day paraded through the halls. I bent over backwards trying to make someone like me. Even though I was oblivious, could someone else get it? I became what I wasn't. I didn't know or understand even myself. My actions and words were foreign.

There was no escape or release. There was merely periodic relief. A flash of red with a glitter of metal. I still don't understand it to this day. I am silent. Quiet. Uncomprehensive. Someone say they understand. Please. I want to be here for you. I have nothing.

I am devastated. I wish to be accepted. That's me, the Freak. The Costume Girl. The Fat One. The Whore. I am every foul name ever uttered. I am all the harmful insults ever suffered. I will scream to the sky until I leave this earth if I must.

Yet, here I am. Living, breathing, me. My heart stopped a while ago, but that's what masks are for. I will be the Freak. Forever. There it all is. My heart and soul poured into all this.

This is my story.