drummergirl013

            Those that don’t know any better come into band scared. They think of us as geeks or misfits. Unpopular, not cool, and we have no life. They underestimate our family. People look at the band in the morning and laugh at us. They talk about how horrible we sound or what lame uniforms we have to wear. They look and judge us. “What sport do you play?” they ask. I reply band, and I can hear these noises in the back. Laughing, whispering. It’s too much.    We aren’t afraid. We are a family. We ignore those comments and looks. We confide within each other. My best friends are in band. We don’t judge each

What's wrong with me? Was it something I said? Something I did? Or, was it something I didn't do? Why do you say those harsh words that sting me? Don't you know they hurt me. Don't you know each of those words are slowly killing me? One by one I feel my soul slowly shriveling up. My heart slowly shrinking. My voice is fading further and further away. Can you hear me? Do you even care? I try and speak and you reject my thoughts. Why? Why do you hurt me? How much more of this sorrow can I take? How much more of the lies can I listen to. Sure, you've been through hell. Life hasn't been kind to you. Why should I complain about my crap when compar