Rising Above

I have been pushed into the shadows. I live in the darkest depths of my mind. Along with my demons, we watch the world from our realm. We watch as everyone roams around being... perfect. I wasn't perfect. To be perfect, I needed to be: Skinny, Beautiful, Social. I needed to be 'normal'. Because I was not, I was banished. Now here I sit, pen in hand, and write out my injustices. But they don't care. They don't notice. To them, I am the muck in the sewage. I am the garbage littering the street. I am the crust caught under their shoes. I am insignificant. But little do they know of the gift I posses. They worship writers for their amazing works. The works that allow them to fall asleep at night with sweet, vivid dreams. The works that turn into films, which allow them to indulge in entertainment. But what these 'perfect' people don't realize is that these writers came from somewhere. These writers have a past and not all are pleasant. Some of the best writers have come from the darkness in which you have placed them. What makes me any different from them? Is it my lack of fame? Or is it my lack of money? What makes you treat me differently? But that doesn't matter. I will have my day. The day when I rise from the darkness. I will no longer be a shadow. I will no longer linger in my realm of pain and rejection. I will be the brightest star in the sky. I will be sun rising from the east. I will be what you dread to see me as. I will be my own version of perfect.