With a traffic state of mind I can’t seem to find a friendly distraction to ease the pain of the twisting kaleidoscope known as my heart. You would think by the way I carry myself and stand that I am strong, and I am, but to the certain extent that one word could make my life crumble to a pile of debris that could easily be disturbed by the slightest movement of the wind. Me, the one that they need, is my life forward and backwards yet the appreciation of my time invested in their lives is never brought to light but in the end their acceptance I do not need or seek. Comparison to a manipulator with traumatizing life experiences is what I have become to be seen as. I do not look to the left or right because my mistakes are standing right beside me rather than behind me, because they could never be buried since the day she left. To you I am not me, but rather someone you can step on and over and think that with an alarming raise of the tone in your voice that you can shatter my soul like a stone to a window. But plexy glass I have surrounded myself in and a cold inner feeling will always keep a distance between us all because you do not or should I erase my words and say will not understand. It is a choice not a force placed upon you that makes you think the way you do about me. My feelings about what it is like to be me, will never surface in your presence simply for the fact that you feel I am loquacious and that my opinion of pure facts is unnecessarily spoken to bring to the table at a point that you believe to be irrelevant. My resentment for her is no longer and my healing process is slow, but now the hurt lies within you because of the inability to tell the difference between two. You are oblivious to who I am, you do not hear me, you do not see me, you do not know me. For if you were absolutely sure of these things you claim to be a master of, you would love me as your daughter, second born from your being, and you wouldn't dare to call me by her name.