Like a Shadow

I was born an angry kid. To my parents, I showed defiance like I held my pride and ego. My tantrums went on for years and it wasn't easy to fix. Even now the violent, devilish child resides in me. It is like another personality all together - but one that is so familiar, so close. I knew it, lived with it, by it, and had at times allowed it to overcome my morality. My family was very normal, but I was not like the usual daughter. I wasn't very happy with anything.

I would label myself as an expressionist. My feelings will continue to haunt me until the moment I take out a piece of paper, and draw, paint, or write. Sometimes, feelings are my biggest enemy. Often I wish to throw them away, rip them out of my system - be completely over and done with it. Yet it is a part of me, like it is to everybody else. I yearn and desire to put things on paper, something that will remind of a certain sensation I had experienced. Even in anger, I find comfort.

People don't understand me though, and I don't understand it fully either as yet. Many instances I would question my sanity, shame and hate the person I have grown to be. Nobody can tell my true nature, even those very close to me. All they have seen is simply one side, and they hate even a hint of my second. Recently I have been losing control, and it scares me to once again be reminded of my other self. But then again, they say only the strong will survive.