My life hasn't been so great. My parents have been drinking and my school hates me. My parents might have been drunk when they told me they loved me. They've only told me once. My brother Andrew just left the house. I begged him to take me with him. But he replied by slamming the car door in my face and rushing away. Now what? No school to learn at, no parents to tell me they love me. And no brother to share my pain with. My friend killed herself.
Story of my life.
End of chapter 2.
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Photography. Words. Music. Animals. 4 words to describe me. I'm taken.
Annoying when your hanging onto a place by one or two things and because people are better you go down like 12 places, that feeling is horrid (this is what has happened to me).
Clawing at a wisp of truth, Desperate to stay afloat, Hanging onto what was left, A silent, strung out note..
I am now hating Opuss and thinking of leaving for GOOD this time.
Bodies laid around me but I didn't care, I wasn't here for them, I was here for him. I walked through the scattered bodies and walked towards the shack in the middle, I knocked on the door, "ty.
My mood effects my writing so as I'm feeling blue..... Well let's just say I've warned you.
How many things can go wrong for me. How many people have I cried out to. I walked down the street. My stuff packed in my suitcase. It was torn up and the wheels were half way rusted.
The sun sets. It looks so yellow. I hear the insects. Saying hello. My faith in the sun rising. Is just the same as my fears hiding..
"Put the gun down, kid!" Said the commander of the russian-German mix military when they invaded the USA. When CJ MacMillan was 6 1/2 he went through alot the next 11 years.
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