• What is inspiration? Where have I found it? Everywhere. In my family, my friends, the music that blasts from my speakers, the hundreds of pages of books that fill my room, in the love I found, in the world surrounding me, in those who tore me down and made me stronger. Not too long ago I wanted to end my life. Just take all the pain away and forget about everything that I had no idea was such a big part of my life. I didn't think about what my life meant. Sometimes, though, I had a burst of inspiration and I felt like I would burst from merely the feeling. But with my state of mind I couldn't hold the feeling, so then I would feel dead again. I almost did it. Almost put my name on a tombstone (if I would even get that honor). So why didn't I do it? Was it because after all this time I finally felt something? Was it fear, hate, honesty, happiness, rage, serenity, love? Maybe it was all of them.
    I'm not sure when I decided to live, but I know how good it made me feel. I felt all of the emotions possible and used them to my full advantage. I thought of my Grandma, my true and undying inspiration. She was my world, still is, and when I decided to be who I am, I felt her happiness rise and she sang me that lullaby. I didn't remember (still don't) how it went, but somehow, I could hear her singing it to me. Then, I thought of my friends. I thought of no matter how much we've lost touch, we'll always have each other in that part of our lives and we'll always be able to grow with or without each other. And with them, I discovered music. The kind with meaning, that fills your heart and makes you sing along, no matter how horrible you sound. The kind that made me dance and practically shout out the lyrics around my room. The kind that made my neighbors hate the nights I was home alone, so that I didn't have to worry about the criticism from my family. Numerous artists and authors have always had something that I could relate to. Nearly every book in my room has made some time of impact on my life. Some more than others. Some bringing more tears than Titanic could ever bring. Some made me feel like I didn't have to hide anymore. They gave me hope, a connection; they gave me my life back. They offered me love.
    "Real love finds you once, if you're lucky. Some people never find love at all. Count yourself blessed if it ever happens your way" (Hopkins, Burned). I haven't had much experience with love, but I've still learned valuable lessons on what to do and what not to do. From my first crush to my second boyfriend (and most current) I've made numerous mistakes that caused me massive pain and suffering. I've wasted time and I can say that I am very happy where I am with my boyfriend. Sure I say that now, but maybe I'm right, or maybe the pessimist in me is. Either way, I'll never know. Youtube offered many inspirational videos after Fireworks by Katy Perry came out. It was an extremely inspirational song and had a huge impact on my life. And for those of you saying bullshit, I want you to see this: http://www.katyperry.com/firework-contest/. Either that or: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4X-f-TIsT5M&feature=related and the other related "making of fireworks" videos. These people made me feel all of those emotions once more, and I can honestly say that I felt INSPIRED after watching all of those videos.
    This is the part that truly reveals me. The people that have torn me down, humiliated me in every way possible, gave me the feeling that I was helpless and alone. And apart from my grandparents, they are the closest people in my life. My mom, step dad, my two childhood friends (whose names I will not use-I'll use first name letters instead), C and S, and my father. My parents have criticized me since the day I began living with them. They didn't-they weren't parents. They made me feel like an outcast, like I didn't belong. Like I didn't matter. They told me to show no emotion, to be almost dead. To them, I existed, but just barely. So I hid. Everything didn't exist. Just like me. C and S were no help either. To them, I was helpless, stupid, nothing. They treated me like I was a child with special needs even if I brought a 500-page book over and read it in an entire night, they still thought of me as the stupid one. It was impossible to convince them, and it still is. And the reason why I still can't convince them: because I'm me and no one else, and I refuse to be the person they want me to be. Which brings me to the worst of them all, my father. He’s done the worst thing a father could do. One day I'll be ready to tell what happened just so that I could feel free, but I'm not quite ready. Maybe when I am ready, I'll write about it here and how much I'm growing from the experience. One day. Every one of these people made me into the person I am today and I guess I'm happy for that. I'm happy that I'm as strong as I am and that I couldn't be happier to be me. But for every other girl or boy out in the world with their story, tell. It won’t hurt. It will make you feel as if you can fly, maybe even soar.