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I like live off reviews.

I suck them in through my tentacles and eat their nutrients... MWAHAHAHA!

Okay wow I am much more energetic and weird than the girl in my story.


There is one boy I wish would love me back.

His name is Thomas. He has short black hair, with crystal-clear, lake-blue, eyes. I love the way he looks so focused in class, and smiles at me when he walks past. And he makes me smile with his witty jokes.

But I am not even sure if I love him.

I feel as though I cannot recognize my emotions anymore, that there is a channel to my mind that controlled my emotional recognition, so to speak. And it has been severed by the loss of my mother.

I have nobody to teach me how to love.

Because my father's blank eyes and harsh voice carry no love.

It is a Saturday, and a menacing thump on the door indicates Father is back. I approach the wall nearest to the front door and press my ear to it. There is a loud clink as Father drops a hollow bottle on the ground. I hear him slam the door and shove the key in the lock. I approach the door, careful not to upset his short temper. I looked up, hoping to see some sort of trace of the old him in them. A laughing, silly, kind man, who had been there for me through a much of my early adolescence.

But I was hopeless.

The man I had once trusted and depended on lay trapped in an alcoholic's body.

I am sitting in my room. My legs are crossed as I decipher what has just happened. I touch the bruise that must be appearing on my cheekbone.

I had tried to crack open the shell my father was in. I smiled at him, asked if I could get him anything. And he looked back, deep lines carved into his forehead. Carvings of anger. I wasn't sure what had happened, but in a raspy voice he had muttered,

"Go to hell, you good for nothing bitch."

I stood there. I did everything I could not to crumple down and cry as a lone tear trailed my cheek. His knuckles rapped across my face with a loud thwack, I ran through the hall into my bedroom. And locked the door, and flung myself onto my bed. I sobbed into a pillow, hoping he wouldn't hear me and shout at me for being frail. Or weak.

It became dark and I could hear drunken chanting in the next room.

I shoved my head under my pillow and silently wished one day I could reside in him again.

And that I could reside in others. Friends. Friends I could love and trust.

And I hope I can become friends with my Thomas.

And maybe,

I could reside in him too.

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