I wrote this as a monologue for my drama class. We had to create something was was opposite of ourselves, and this is what came out of that.

Also, I've used this in my other story "World of Mysteries" because I wrote them both at the same time.

Dear Skie;

Thank you for never being rude. You know, I've always wondered something. Remember what quote I made up in fifth grade? "Why does the world's people say the things they say?" well I still say that seven years later.

Of course, it is annoying that people say rude things. It doesn't matter if someone on the street says something rude. Yeah, it kind of hurts but it isn't like you know them; so their opinion doesn't really matter. My problem isn't those random strangers on the street. I need to tell you this, so will you listen? Well, I'm giving you no choice.

My problem is my dad. You remember him, right? Of course you do, he is the one that told you to leave when we were thirteen because he caught our boyfriends smoking with us. We weren't though, and we tried to get them to stop. They were just too strong.

And you were there for me through everything that happened. From my mom starting to be there less to my dad losing his job.

I remember when she was there all the time, don't you? She would make us cupcakes to ice and help us make the perfect roses. She was the best baker, wasn't she?

But remember the first time she left? We were ten and my dad was at work. We woke up and she was just... gone. We looked everywhere in the house and woke up the neighbors. They told us she was an adult and was allowed to just leave. Boy, I'm glad those guys moved last year.

I guess you weren't around when my mom got pregnant. It was after my dad lost his job when we were twelve. It was when I was fourteen. He was so mad, and drunk. That was the first time I had ever seen him hit someone.

He was in a huge tyrant rage, his face was as red as a fire truck and his voice was as loud as an explosion. The thing was... she didn't even care that she was pregnant with another man's baby.

Dad told her to get out, she refused and said this was her house too. When he was hung over and sober for a few hours the next day, he told her that she could keep the baby and continue living there, they would raise it as his own.

Still, mom didn't come home for days, maybe weeks on end; and when she did come home she was either drunk or high. Now, whenever she is home she is asleep. And if she is awake she is yelling at my dad.

What about dad you ask? Well he is a drunk now. I don't even know why he got laid off. Too lazy? Incompetent (I would understand that)? Budget cuts? Though, I think it must have been a good idea, because he worked as the Dean at NYU and he wasn't very motivated. He hates people.

Of course, after he got laid off he didn't bother trying to find a new job. That kind of sucked for me, I was getting use to the solitude of the house. Now that he is here almost twenty-four seven, it is always messy and he blames it on me.

Rude, ungrateful, useless, hopeless, failure, are just some of the words he calls me. Of course, I guess I should be used to it. He is always like this, mean. My mom never comments, never says anything. Well, anything that I know about.

Of course, you're probably wondering about that baby. Well, the baby died a month after it was born. My little brother Dylan died a month after he was born because my mom had alcohol and drugs in her system. Well, that was the story anyways. I have other suspicions.

You know, I guess school isn't that bad. I do well and nobody knows about my home life. Not even my boyfriend. He thinks that I live an amazing life, if only he knew.

I guess it is a bad idea to hide this from your boyfriend, isn't it? Remember tall sporty guy? The one you had a HUGE crush on? He's the one. Though, I'm only a few inches shorter than him now. I've grown, I'd even be taller than you! So yes, I did break five feet.

I hang around with that girl you never really liked. Though I hang around with guys more. They don't ask as many questions, y'know? Girls, they're always asking questions because they like to know things. With guys, I think it's different. I think they know you'll tell them when you want to tell them.

I don't plan on telling him though, I don't want to scare him away. Because telling a guy that you live with a verbally abusive father and a never there mom isn't exactly a positive thing.

At least I don't smoke yet. I've never turned to that. Though, now that I think of it my house does smell like cigars a lot. Like yours did, maybe my dad's smoking!

Oh yeah, he also took money from my collage fund. That's what is supporting us right now. Collage money and money from my job. I work at McDonalds. An amazing job right? Not.

I hate it, but I guess it's a good place for me. A hundred dollars from each paycheck goes into an account I started for myself, my own collage fund.

Oh yeah, I was taking care of your cat Mr. Snow-fluff. He died though, I felt like a part of you disappeared with him. I'm not right though, right? You're still here?

You know that gun? The one you used to kill your dad and yourself? The one that in your note you said belongs to me? Well I have it in my bedside table. And sometimes, I open the drawer and wonder what would happen if I pulled the trigger and killed myself, would life get any better? Would I be away from my dad?

Sometimes I wonder if all my demons are inside my head, and the life I am living is inside my head. But then I remind myself that it isn't. I say Quinn, you are amazing and you will go on. Everything maybe against you, but you'll just show it that you're stronger.

So, I guess this is where this letter ends. I have nothing left to say, and you have nothing left to listen too. Oh yeah, I got accepted into Harvard. I'm going to be a physiologist. I want to be able to help people. I want others to have a chance. Because I'm not going to fall, and neither are they.

I want you to know that I miss you, but I know you're up there looking down to me. So, I will leave you with this. My last thing I shall write you this time.

This is your best friend, signing off. But not for the last time, because everyone deserves to live. Including you.