This bag on my head

was put there a long, long, time ago.

and it was put there

so no one would see

what was wrong.

my father had lost his job

my grandfather was in the hospital

a lot.

and I didnt have a friend in the world

to turn to

so I put the bag

over my head

later as years strolled by

I got taller and smarter and stronger

but the bag held me back

sometimes when I would cry

the bag woud become wet with my tears and stick to my face

but yet I  would still have to get up the next day for school

and act like nothing was wrong

and they'd taunt me

and tease me

and say things about me

that I never did

and they'd call me names

and make fun of my name

and each time they did

i could feel them writing words on the bag over my head

in permanent ink.

the smell of the alcohol burned my eyes through the bag

and made me cough

and sometimes i would do things back to them

thinking i would have the last laugh

but somehow

it never worked out that way

and then the teacher would take my bag off

crumple it up

and shove it back on my head

later as years strolled by

I got taller and smarter and stronger

but the bag held me back

and I got introduced to a crowd of unfortunates

and I wanted so badly for them, for him, to accept me.

to love me.

so I painted my bag black.

and I strutted the halls thinking i looked

exceptional.

but I was so hollow inside

and I knew something was missing

and when my ties to the unfortunates ended

I tried to take the paint off of my bag but

it just blurred and smudged and turned gray.

and then when my best friend became everything I held dear

I thought I was happy

because he when he was with me

I felt whole.

but when we tore at each others throats

and it happened almost daily

he always managed to rip my bag.

and I was always the one who had to tape it back up again.

and finally one day he took my bag

and tore it to pieces

and again I had to tape it up

and it took

two

long

years

but now despite all that I have learned from my past

and how I tell myself it doesnt bother me

what people say

or think about me

I know deep down it does bother me

because it reminds me of my past

and I NEVER want to go there again

I dont want to get hurt again

so finally

when I met HER

on her first day at a new school

she looked at me

just once and thats all it took

and she took the bag off of my head

and for some reason

I let her

I didnt fight her

I trusted her and she trusted me

for some strange reason....

and she looked me in the eye

"You. Are beautiful." she said

and for some reason I believed her

so together

we walked to the trash can

and threw my paper bag

away.