Sometimes it's easier,being someone you're not I mean. You can pretend you're strong and brave, courageous even. You can be a mystery. You can have a steel exterior. You don't have to let people in, you think you can't get hurt. And when you don't get hurt, you don't feel anything. And that's the worst feeling. Not feeling. You can choose to be an open book or change all the time, not letting people get too close. You keep pushing people away, stop feeling things. You don't feel the joy anymore. You don't feel the comforts or happiness. The ou go home at night and cry yourself to sleep asking yourself 'why do I keep pushing them away? Why don't I let them in?' The you spend years wasting your life, missing out on things you could've had of you'd've only trusted those people. The people that called you their friend. Because in the end, you can't get rid of your past. You can't forget. That's not how it's supposed to work. Your past is what makes you who you are. Do you keep telling yourself to shut everybody out because you say to yourself 'they're not going to accept me. Who I am. What I've done.' The you'll be like me. Where I've spent basically the last two years of my life living in a box. My only escape the books I read and going to dance and such. Because for two years I was a selective mute. I gave up on singing and talking altogether because so thought there was no point. No point in talking when I thought there was nothing to say. No one to say it to. In reality there was insurmountable things to say. So many things, there weren't enough words to say it with. I gave up. On myself. On my life.

A/N: Hey readers! So this is the prologue to my first original story. Hope you like it and review! Sorry it's so short. It is a prologue after all.