Reality

Enlighten me, please. What kind of world do we live in? Houses are several feet from the ground, the ground is covered in plastic and other wastes, waste materials are getting toxic, dangerous toxins could be bought by huge money, money could also buy love, and love... I don't even know what it is. I think I speak for humanity in the twenty first century when I say love is a complex demand to accomplish. Many goody-two-shoes out there blame us because we do not love nature, or we do not love each other, but how can they blame us? How can they call us ignorant when they are the ones ignorant from the fact that we are struggling to love anything or anyone, even ourselves, because we never really learned how to do it? Okay, so maybe it's just me. Life has been cruel to me. I only knew love from movies and fantasies. Love was so near yet so far. I feel like I was raised as if I was in the wild. Once I was old enough, I was left to fend for myself. I was four. The only comfort zone I knew was taken away from me by a tiny life form. Yes, he was cute and cuddly, but he was vicious. He'd be all cute in front of everyone, but when we were left alone he'd turn into a monster. No one believed me. I was the girl who cried wolf. I was confused. To the eyes of an innocent child, it was just too much. I cried. Crying is a defense that never failed to grab attention -- until that moment. I was left crying and I was left being blamed for making the little monster cry. It was that moment that I lost a piece of me. I lost my childhood. I never gave up on taking back what was mine. I was consistent with my efforts, and I never settled for second best, but everyone seems to be so blind. No one ever saw the light that I ignited. Later on, with each recognition I get comes a knife that cuts directly to the heart. The spark that was once so bright in my eyes became a dull shadow in the background that everyone else saw. I didn't stop looking, though. I continue to find the match that will send a fireworks display that will captivate everyone, but I can't help but die a little every time I try. I may be wounded badly, but I'm still alive. Maybe one day, all the wounds would heal. Maybe I would learn to believe in love again, or at least find out its meaning. Maybe I would love myself, maybe I would love others, but right now don't you dare call me rude or cruel because you don't know what rude or cruel is.