So, there was this girl. When she looked inside her head she saw an entire world made of crisp, beautiful, white paper. Her thoughts were like vivid paints in her hand, and she spread color and imagination to each delicate paper shape. But now, she tries to walk across her mind… and finds a wall. She doesn’t know what it is, as she has never had one in her mind before. Instead of paper, like the rest of her mind (open, clean, innocent, ready to be made unique) it is made of gray, hard, cold concrete. She tries to spread her rainbow of thoughts to it, but finds that her vivid paints have turned into watercolors and make no mark on the concrete wall. She presses her hand to the wall, wishing it would disappear, because she now realizes exactly why it is there, and exactly who her mind is forbidding her to think of… and she slowly slides down to the ground. Her once brilliant paint splashes out of her grasp as she cries, and cries, and cries.