“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.”
—Stephen King
Once upon a time, I felt that way. A time when I couldn't express what I wanted to say and how I felt, because the words wouldn't come out right. A time when I wanted to rip my heart out to save my friends the time deciphering it. A time when I just cried because the time has arrived to tell them but I wasted it because I feared that I would be misunderstood.
Either way, I was misunderstood.
I am always misunderstood... because I am weird.
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