--Prologue--

Wait. Wait. Wait for each passing day. As the sun flies across the darkened sky and the moon shies away to hide from it's beauty for it envies it's radiant smile. With each drifting thought, and every crossed emotion, can you honestly wait? To pass every wonderful smell, and every glorious sight from the beautiful salty blue ocean, to the ever flowing field of doused grass. To be content with what life is, and not think of what it can be.

I am not that patient.

I must take in everything I can before the day dies. Or at least I wish I could be that way. I want life to rush at me, for me to be in an ever growing,ever moving paced world. For the earth around me to shake once I stepped upon it, for the days to never be slowed or paused. I want it to crash around me and swallow me, so that every breathe can be muffled.

But I wasn't always this way. Once I could careless what was going on in the world, and that I was missing the best part of living. Though I wanted to be a free spirit, to roam place of unknown wonder, to see, hear, feel, taste, things that have intruded me for years. I hid that from the world and worse from myself.

I wanted to music notes, to be the sweet melody that slipped between the finger tips. To cling in the air and be enjoyed and listened to. Like the whisking wind, I would be the the soft whisper in everyone's ears. I urine for my words to drip from my lips and be tasted by those of the world.

It's funny when I think back to how I used to be, I wanted to be normal. What is normal anyway? I imagined “normal” to be something that everyone did, what everyone looked like and said. To follow in the footsteps of the newest trends, and the latest music. Never wanting to be anything but a shadow, a full book. That wasn't written by me. And I hated my other self.

When I found out that I was a different person entirely was a bit of a shock. Not only could I not remember who I once was, I couldn't recall ever meeting any of the people who call themselves my family. Once I grew as an individual and became this new person, I didn't want to go back to the old me. Though I was confident enough to say that, inside I could feel my insides being torn and eaten as if they were going to be ripped from my very body.

The women who claims to be my mother blames the loss of my memory on my once twin brother. He died on our seventeenth birthday in a car accident, I was the survivor, but only by so much. Our lives were like the fragile strings of a guitar, we can play a wonder song that can transform into something that the ones you love will be proud of, and with one wrong string your whole song can loose it's balance and the rhythmic tempo dies along with the song.

His name was Kyle. We were the exact opposites to each other, yet that never stopped us from being close, or so my mother says. Some how I believe that what she said is true, I do feel a bitter aloneness nipping at my body. Even being surround by tons of people, the alone feeling seems almost too familiar to my body, and I wonder if it's because of him.

I found out later that had another brother, but not by blood. He is my stepbrother, his father married my mother last year. He was the first I saw when I woke from the deepest sleep that a person should ever have to endure, a coma, he explained that I had only been in a coma for about a month, but it felt as I was lost in a dark room with no openings. Not even a sign of life appeared in the room.

Everything was locked tight with no means of escape. And everything around became an utter blank until I woke up, even then only the piece that he set into place made some of a clear picture. A few puzzle pieces glued them selves to my mind, which came naturally to me when the explanation was in order. Though I didn't know why.

In the middle of the night I stay awake to hear my mother cry. Her weeping is soft and gentle, but I can still hear it. I know she tries to hide her tears and act as if nothing is wrong with me. Sometimes if I lie still in bed I can hear her prayers, every night she asks god if he could jog my memories to maybe take back all that's happened. I know my stepfather can't hear her cries, or maybe he just choose not to, but I hear them and they're like a painful stab to the chest.

No matter how much everyone else whats me to go back to the way I was, it's not going to happen. I can never be that same girl who once let hid from the world and let it walk all over her. I have become almost the alter-ego of my once self. And not even the winged angles in heaven can force me to go back.

I won't.

And no one can make me. Not my mother, my stepfather, nor my stepbrother. They must all acccept me for the young women I have become, and listen to my voice as a different person.

This is my story.

---

Author's note:
Hey I've decided to take a step away from the manga story structure and typing style and try something different. Don't get me wrong, I'll still write manga type stories but I am really aspiring to become an author so I need different writing and typing style. Though I'm not sure I'm very good at it, but it's something I really want to be and something that I want to achieve so I'm going for it.

--Full Summary--
A horrible car accident causes me to have amnesia. I become the alter-ego to my once self. Down the road to finding my own identity I learn that the world is full pain and sorrow, but trying to find salvation in the life of the person I no longer am, how can I live the life I want?