Never Say Goodbye

I hate it here. I hate it here so much. I hate being in this house. No, it's not like I've been traumutized or otherwise abused, but I just loathe this house with all my lovely little being. It's not that it isn't a nice house, of course... it just seems to represent all that I detest. And it's sad... I stare out my lonely little windows and watch the sunset over the lake (which we will call a lake for lack of a better, more romantic word) and it sparkles so perfectly... so mesmerizingly. All around it is death... brown,dried plants, black and bare trunks of this, wasting trees. The lake is the only thing that is alive. It's like me, trapped in the midst of all that is its opposite. That's why I hate this house so much. It isn't me... it isn't my life, but my parents... or someone else's... it's as though it contains the lives and stories of everyone around me, but not me. I don't fit it. I just want it to let me go. To stop holding me hostage. To set me free.

I think I'm starting to go mad.

It's scary.