Can I survive? Am I really as strong as they think I am? They all think that I'm some prefect little girl who is strong and mature enough to keep her head and endure anything all by herself, but am I really? I just keep searching for an elusive escape that doesn't exist, I keep praying for answers that I know I will never find. Why don't they see my cheeks, burned by the tears? Why don't they hear the screaming of my heart as I live my life? They don't because I don't let it show. I can't let it show. No one can know. They just can't! But maybe survival would be easier if they knew... no! I'm dreaming again. Dreaming of freedom. Dreaming of knowing that I'm loved enough to be supported. Why? Why don't these answers exist? Is there no way out? It feels like I've been here forever. The tears keep falling...


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Jayden Nicole (joined almost 13 years ago)

I have a passion for art and an overactive imagination.

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Blank Prompt

Freeform prompt. Every Friday, writers face a blank page without any prompt. They write whatever they want in six minutes or less.
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