• Some days at the orphanage the other orphans would play hide and go seek. Me? I would read in the corner by the biggest window in the building. I knew I didn’t belong here. My parents were going to come back any day to come get me. I wasn’t a real orphan, just a misplaced kid for a while.

  • It was televised the next night. Everything that I had done, said, and what was done to me. All on the damn TV. I just want to run to a place where no one knows me. Where there are no televisions anywhere!

  • neuroticwriter commented on the post, clasp 5 years, 8 months ago

    He clasped my arm so tightly that I knew there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow. “What do you want me to say Stephan? I can’t just let this go. You know that.”

    “And I can’t let you go.” He slams a fist into my gut making me double over in pain.

    I gasp for air as I straighten back up, ready for the fight.

  • Native…umm….all I can think about is native land or something being native. I don’t feel very creative today. I can’t think of anything. This is terrible. *grumble grumble*

  • neuroticwriter commented on the post, harm 5 years, 9 months ago

    No harm will come to you I promise. That is what I want to hear when I look at my mother. Yet she releases me into the waiting arms of these strangers. No words leave her mouth, just a wave before turning around and walking away. I almost cry out ot her. Almost. I have to be stronger than this.

  • I would love to feel counted. Counted in my family with my mother, at the rink with what I do with the shows and programs. Counted in life. At work. Everything. I just feel like I’m always pushed aside, never really seen in the side lines. It sucks.

    To be counted in life. That would be amazing to actually have.