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By Bonnie Parker, West Branch sophomore
WEST BRANCH – After years of being put down, bullied and just plain out ignored, I finally relieved my pain with my words.
In my writing – whether it be a story, a song or a poem – I can at least be myself and not have to worry about what others think of me.
I can create a world where no one can hurt me, no one can tear me down. I can for once be the hero and not the damsel in distress. Trying to overcome these pains on my own can create even bigger scars then the acts themselves. Then there’s my writing, within my lines, I can finally come alive with words and show just who I want to be on the pages.
As I write away my pain. I notice an almost disturbing similarity between my painful existence and the tortures of which I write. The villains, or even just the tear jerking experiences, match those I have lived through, or even those that have brought a part of me crumbling to the floor.
Inspiration can come from almost anywhere, but the most hurtful of acts, even those that were “only in fun” or “it was just a joke” seem to bring the most emotional response.
My voice never rises above meek sound, yet the words I write seem to scream out what I feel and allow me to be heard.
Given everything that I’ve done throughout my short life – and it hasn’t been much – I’m especially proud of everything I’ve written.