I used to be bitter; standing in the common room, I would look up at that high, high ceiling, and ask: why me? I would run and hide from who I was, losing myself within layers of vintage clothing.Everyone else seemed to think that I was so simple, not an onion, but an orange; once you've figured out how to peel me, my insides are just obvious. This simplicity of who I was escaped me, until I realized. Until I realized that everything outside of me was swallowing up the silent little dove inside of me. I would be silent on the outside, but screaming bloody murder- Now you’re murdering me-everywhere they couldn't see. Learning to cope with the monster that was me, now I'm content (I think) with who I am, but emptiness is me. Loneliness is me. Feeling my soul and accepting its presence will only get me so far in the world. Peace within doesn't fix this charm bracelet that is my eclectic soul. Bring me butterflies to sing to, and ruby red shoes to dance in, a journal to remember this, and most importantly bring me this.