Innocent Imagenation

I miss the drive i used to have as a kid. I used to want to be so many different things. And I'm sure i could have been anything. A vet, a singer, an actress... A writer. But i guess in growing up something stopped me from trying to achieve anything, it wasn't that i got lazy. But the fact that too many people told me i couldn't. And that just sucks.
I used to write all these little stories and poems. And for a younger girl they were so good (not boasting or anything) I was so descriptive and my imagination was so creative. Over active brain i guess. But someone told me that it was lame. So i didn't stop but i kept it to myself. Afraid and embarrassed to tell people because i didn't want them to laugh at me. I'm even embarrassed writing this... A blog - an emo thing? Not really. Its a place where i can read my thoughts. Because with out writing them down i get confused and go off on tangents in the twisted path ways of my mind and forget what i was meant to be trying to sort out. Because there's alot of crap floating on up there.
But i was looking through my room yesterday and i came cross a folder, full of stories and poems from years ago - some were rubbish and made me cringe! But others were actually quite good. I stuck to writing poems because they were short. Reading some of the stories, they could have been made longer - but id get another idea and start writing something else, so id either end it stupidly or just not end it at all... leave it hanging - but then if i went back to it id forget where i was going with it.
I guess the drive changed, because i changed. I got older, i didn't grow up - but my surroundings changed. I started going out. My group of friends changed.... The fact that i had friends!! I wrote because, i had no where to be. I escaped into my mind to keep myself company. To be able to become someone i wished i could be - i wrote about who i wanted to be. And then, i guess.... I suddenly became that person.
I worry though, because the things i wrote were so dark and morbid. 7 to 11 year olds or however old i was.... Well shouldn't be writing depressing things like that - but hey, explains why I'm so fucked up now. I miss writing. I found one story about a Raven. It was 18 pages long, A4 - both sides.... so quite long. Not finished. Might try and carry it on as it was a good idea! Writing about the freedom of a lost soul... Yeah, deep stuff for a kid - but with humor... aww i miss younger innocent me. The way i wrote about the killing of a fish was so imaginative - i love it lol, go me.
I also re-read a book on poems, one could have been published in a book in America. But someone told me it was a scam, which broke me - Seeing as it wasn't a scam, someone actually liked my stuff =( Doesn't help that no-one believed in me, because now i cant believe in myself!!!
But... Fuck it, I'll forget about the fear and the embarrassment and show you on here.....

It's called: Fallen Angel
Lets dream of the end,
And start over.
Fall into the night.
Let my blood brand the pavement,
Be part of this city at last.

I silently stand,
My audience watch on.
Feel guilty for all your taunting now?
I’m on the edge… Erg me to jump!

I can’t feel anymore,
I’m lost in my pain.
On the roof, the air is calm.
Count the tears as they drop.

So I’ll diminish with the rain.
I open my eyes.
I’m flying.

I fell for you,
Now I’m falling because of you!

Tell me what you think... Good or bad, i don't mind. Also - if your interested in seeing anymore... I have a whole book full of depressing shit. Lol. x