???'s P.O.V
11. I used to be 11 years old.

I always had a way with words...At least, that's what my siblings said.

I personally found myself to be quite awkward with my words. I always said more than I needed.

Writing was and still is my favorite hobby.

I enjoyed writing stories that could take me or someone else into a far away place.

My room was always full of discarded papers. I could never find the right words but my perseverance never let me quit.

I wish it could have saved me from her.

My voice was never heard. It may never will.

Only the others besides me listen.

What good is that? They cannot get these feelings and thoughts to the surface.

Everything is stuck down here. Forever.

[Purple is a boy]