I’m so alone yet no one knows. I walk around with a growl and speak with sarcasm. I add a layer to my prison with every look or whisper aimed at me. My walls are so thick and so high that I cannot see the light. I cannot remember the warmth of others or the chill of the wind. I am an empty corpse where bitterness has long since ruled and fights off any true emotion. I am so alone. I want to give up with every echo of laughter or image of love. I think that maybe that could have been me. Maybe. Nevertheless, it is not, this is. The glare of my eyes and my locked jaw that refuses to smile remind me of this when I look in the mirror. My frizzy hair and twenty pounds of unwanted abundance stays with me when I reach for affection. Again, I am alone. Oh, so alone. But now I hate myself more than before, I hate my vanity. How dare I care about looks when children starve and parents die? How dare I wish for glowing skin and silky hair? How could I betray myself for wanting to be one of them, an outsider, accepted. The overwhelming outrage consumes my bitterness and the tears come streaming down. Black tears full of sorrow. Old tears, the ones I refused to let go as they lined my eyes after a name was dubbed or rejection rang in my ears. They all come rolling down mixed with my bitterness that adds an extra salty sting when they hit my bitten lips that still bleed. A sting that I will be sure to taste afterwards when I regret my sign of weakness and return to building my prison. But for now I am relieved, I still feel something, which means I am still human, I am still alive and this gives me hope to go on. I crawl up in a ball, taking up the least amount of space as possible hoping to crawl up into myself and disappear, the tears still roll, now landing on my bed intertwining with the fabric. I close my eyes, return to the darkness that is myself, and take comfort in being home, away from outsiders and from desire that threatens to destroy me. I take another breath, not because I want to but because I have to for some other will inside me in persisting with living or what ever category the verb I am doing would come under. I search for a hope, anything that still lies within me, something I can hold onto. I mentally direct it at the will that keeps me breathing and living. I find it. The last precious one. I think of the dream quietly, trying not to disturb the bitterness that is busily clawing at my stomach and burning my throat to silence any attempts to scream out for help. I concentrate and I am in a room. It is not something like one of those dry magazines that the average trivial teenage girl reads. It’s simple it is real. There is a wooden floor, it feels cold beneath my exposed feet, there is a hole at the corner and it is unevenly stained with wood paint. There are three walls that white paint is peeling off to reveal the brick. There are a few stains on the walls and four yellow rings mark the ceiling, probably from water that is leaking through. I turn around and face the other wall behind me. It is magnificent. The dull white paint still peels off and spider webs surround the edges of the dismembered wall, however in the center of the damaged wall lies the most inviting object, a hole, a window. It is so glorious, sun shines through and a draft sends a wonderfully cold shiver up my spine. The panes of glass have a sweeter touch as my hand reach through. I reach up and stroke a butterfly but instead find myself facing my bitterness. This time however it has its own form, it has eaten up all of my energy and takes the form of my darkest fears. I look in to its face, something I never thought existed, and terrified I open my eyes. I take a breath, this time by choice. My eyes sting from the image. I breathe again. I will fight it. I force my eyelids to shut as sweat flows down my face joining my tears and morning dew at my lips. I am back in the field; it is no longer green grass but concrete, there are no butterflies’ just planes, and the sunlight is non-existing. Electric street lights and air-condition replace the feeling of nature. I run towards the spark that I still feel from the sun, run towards the memory and away from my bitterness, The bitterness. It surrounds me blocking my view, confusing direction. I run. I feel the concrete slip away from underneath replaced by cobbled streets. The electric street lamps are now torches that burn in posts. The sun is returning I can feel its beam on me, in me. Yet, I cannot see it. The bitterness is losing its place and is holding on as tightly as possible to stay with me. It is clawing at my skin, tearing open my veins, clawing at my face. It grabs at my eyes and digs in below my eyeballs; it tightens its grip as it loses its power. I am running to the east. I pass by civilization. The bitterness claws at my eyes in a last attempt to hold on to me, in turn it squeezes my eyes causing them to burst. The blood streams down my face, I keep running. Then I stop. I take a breath as I lay on the ground. I am again in the overgrown grass. Butterflies and emotions surround me; the wind streams through me and with that the will that kept me alive leaves. And I am once again alone. I take a breath, inhale emotion, love, laughter, the sun and life and I am for once full. I feel the sun glow on me and I am no longer by myself. O crawl up into a ball on the dirt that soaks up my blood and begins to breathe. I cannot see, yet I know that the world is with me as I wish for the last time to climb up into myself. My corpse disappears, engulfed by the dirt and I am at last free. I look for the sun and for warmth and realize I am it. I look back at the earth. The dirt that I stained with blood is evolving into a being and is drawn towards civilization. I take a breath and found the wind that had pushed me on. I follow behind it, up every spine and erecting every hair on every being to remind them that they are alive and do feel it. Sometime later I meet up with the dirt that I made human and I’ll brush up against it and whisper in its ear, Always look east, and it will join me, shedding blood and skin to give back to the earth and consequently creating life. Then we will follow the wind together urging others forward as we creep through them.

hello : )

okay first of all ack this is a pain on my eyes! Try paragraphing!
second a lot of sentences started with "I" a LOT.

That said, I loved the sarcasm of the piece.
Maybe you could take a look at one of mine and tell me what you think, I'd appreciate it