Nobody knows me. Nothing about me. Nothing about who I am to what I'm like. It's just me. I'm all alone. I've been abandoned, betrayed, and abused. I was forced to move away from everything I knew. What I was and who I had become. My emotions started taking over my life, until final I shut down. I wouldn't leave my house for anything. I locked myself inside for over 6 months. I sat in the corner, on my little wooden chair that my father had made me for my 7th birthday. All I did was cried. All day, everyday.
My entire life changed on August 15th, 1903. Something that I never expected to happen. I knew there was violence and pain in the world but I never knew what it meant to actually live it. The pain is still there to this day. The memory is still vivid like it happen just yesterday. The day that my parents were killed. The day that was supposed to be amazing. That day was to be the day that I was to turn 10. In my heritage when the first born turns 10 a huge party is thrown, as a symbol that the family has accomplished successfully raising a child. I could say what happened that killed them. I could have told a bunch of people, but instead I keep it locked away in a box. A box in my head, that is never to be shared. The box keeps expanding with every "I'm sorry for your loss" and "Everything will be ok". Like they have any idea even close to what it feels like! Everything I knew was destroyed in 1 day.