We are told that we play a dangerous game.
We pretend to live in the present, an illusion that we create, where everything is ok and where very little bothers us.
We are told that we would be locked away.
If we told the dark thoughts and scenes that run rampant through the veins of our spirit.
We are made fun of and mocked.
When we genuinely care for a situation or another's needs, because of where we have been in the past.
We are ignored.
When other see our weaknesses, our hurts, and the confusion that we carry.
We hide from the world.
Not because we fear it, but because it enrages us with its backward human natures (speaking of society in general, not meaning all humans).
We are told that we play a dangerous game:
Because we are like a chameleon most times. Fitting in where we need to and keeping silent and out of sight when we know that we cannot fit into a certain situation.
Because of what we feel inside.
Because if our thoughts were known to others, they would deem us unfit to dwell in a society of people.

We know our truth and we carry it inside us every second of every day.
Almost always we are mistaken when we share us, because so many others think that we are tainted and misguided and twisted inside.

Our heart breaks with each one that carries pain.
We hear the tears and voices of so many hurt by others in our sleeps.
We feel the joy and the warm hearts and smiles when something goes
well for others.

But for us, the best that we try to do is never good enough for us.
When all goes well and we reward ourself with smiles and laughter, it's only a stepping stone for us because we know we can do much better than we do.
The pains that we bear make us cautious to the point of not liking those persons that we don't know in spirit.
We trust not even ourself, because of the pain that we have endured.
We cannot be what others would like us to be and for that we create our illusion of fitting in.
For us, the past has never happened, but it remains in our thoughts and in our heart and we pass harsh internal judgement on others that provoke our anger. Yet we will to forget, but to no avail, so we hide it.
When at last we open to one we believe that we can identify with, they see us as cold, harsh, unhuman, dark, and rash.
Perhaps we, our parts, have been in agreement too long and refuse to see or understand what we need to let go and heal in a new way. Perchance, we may be dreaming, caught up in our own twisted dream. At this point, we are unsure.
Why we are posting this, we don't know. Maybe we wish to know if there are more like us, or maybe we are seeking advice for something we don't understand. At any rate, it helps us to type out what we feel from time to time. Thanks for reading if you've read this far. Sorry if we offend, offence isn't meant.