A Distant Dream
- Hannah L
- Jan 10
- 2 min read
In a world of colors, I stood askew
Different, I was, from the usual crew
Stress at home, a weight hard to bear
Led me to act in ways others wouldn’t dare
Bullied and alone, I sought my place
Yearning for kindness, a friendly face
Not with the friends I had, nor those in mind
A sense of belonging, so hard to find
Even the teachers, distant and cold
Their disapproval, a story often told
No reflection found, no solace in sight
Alone in the day, and in the dark of night
The harsh truth lingers, a heavy shroud
A feeling of isolation, a persistent cloud
Yet within this storm, a light may still gleam
A hope for connection, like a distant dream
How we treat others is contagious. We don't mean to do it. I've done it myself. Sometimes we do it just to fit in. How my mother treated me spread through basically everyone I knew; My family, friends, teachers, police, doctors, literally everyone. Then you add the stigma of the mental illness, bipolar, that I didn't have, and that added to my issues. I was different from most of the kids growing up. I still am very different than people my age. People don't understand me, because of what I've been through and how that shows through my behaviors. Because I was a different kid dealing with things at home, people didn't like me. People didn't want to figure out what was wrong, but rather, shame me for the behaviors I didn't understand and couldn't control. This has contributed to making life extremely difficult; Never feeling understood, loved, or even liked. Due to my environment, I learned to feel energy and notice the slightest difference in people's tones, facial expressions, and even written words. I could sense someone didn't like me, and I could sense when someone was irritated by me, even sometimes before they knew it. I have never fit in anywhere. I have never truly felt welcomed. Even with my adoptive mother and her family, I watch the celebrations that their family have, and I'm not typically invited unless I don't already have somewhere else to go. I still don't know what family is, what family means, other than I am my own family. Simply because no one understands me. Everyone back in Wisconsin thinks I'm still crazy, and views me that way. People here in Michigan, they admire me, but they don't understand me. I am forever alone with who I am, and most of the time I am okay with that. I still long for connection, but have come to terms with the fact that it may always be this way. Just another thing to show me that my purpose on Earth is to uplift others and make them happy, while I carry the weight of their problems, literally, with too much empathy.
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