Prologue

I wish I knew everything. I wish I was wise--or well mannered, or nice. I wish I could understand. And if I understood, then I could take the bits of that well-obtained information and use it to my advantage; or maybe use it to live.

I wish I could be all of those things--and yet I know that wishes never come true.

I want to be able to breathe. I don't mean breathing, as in the intake of oxygen to make carbon dioxide. I want to breathe and feel something in my chest. I want to know that I am whole. That I'm not broken, or unfilled, or unsatisfied.

If I could do any of those things, I would be happy--and yet I know that those things will never happen.

I have a family. It occurs to me from time to time that I'm considered 'lucky'. I have a mom, a dad, and a sister. I am the youngest. I don't need to wait--and I receive without asking. I am spoiled, rich, and taken care of.

I hate that.

Sometimes I want to live on the street, or under a bridge, or without anything. Sometimes I want to know what it feels like to have nothing.

I want all of these things. And yet I will never do any of this. Because I am scared.

Afraid.

Lonely.

Tired.

And so, this concludes my life story.

Well, actually, I don't have a life story yet. I don't know what I'm talking about.