I always catch myself staring into the empty and meaningless pit of space and time that doesn't even exist. Just a spot on the wall at school, or at home, or even sometimes at the mall when I don't spend all day in my room. My room. That space used to be my sanctuary. It kept me safe from the monsters out in the real world for a while. It comforted me while everyone dealt with their own selfish needs. And it was my friend, no matter how foolish it sounds. But something safe can only last so long. I watched the shadows with my eyes as they crept their way through the cracks in the walls. I watched them tear everything I onced loved to bits and pieces, incapable of being put back together. I watched it's pitch black figure move it's way to every part of my life, tearing it up and ripping it before my eyes. Only then, after everything is destroyed and my eyes no longer can shed tears, does it make its way to me. The pain it brought is a blur today. It was like dream; you never know how it's starts, but you always know how it makes you feel. Even today, when the darkness is now my friend, I can still feel the chills it ran up my spine and the fear it brought to my once warm features. I didn't want to befriend the darkness, but it was either that or allow the continued endless power it had over me to make my life miserable. It still does, just not as much as it could once before. Everything in my eyes are still blurry, though. My trust remains hard to get. My love remains unreciprocated to all those I care deeply about. My friends remain close, but as close as friends get. They were never my friends and they know that. If you say a friend is someone who sticks by you through the thick and thin, I'd say a friend is not something I have. I have very little, after all. Mother, even though I hate to call her that, works all the time. Yet, she spends the money she gets more on her than anyone else she calls family. I know very well she could care less what we were to her. I watch everyday as father gets pushed around by her, unable to stand up for himself, much like me. They were both raised in different conditions. One, strict rules and obedience. The other, uncaring and freeful. By now, I guess you now know where I stand. Brother, I'm almost certain, hates her too. She did kick him out on several occasions and take his money, only because he stole a lot a few years back. I mean, seriously? You're getting twice more money from your job and fathers job and he barely has any. Yet, you ask strictly because you can't get over what he did years ago. Another thing about her: she makes you feel like the villian when she herself is it all along. Ha, talk about a fucked up life, alright.