What happened?

In the beginning, everything was perfect. We were growing children, learning slowly how to spread our wings and fly. Nothing was bad. We only saw the good in things. God, just the idea of the innocence makes me sick. Knowing that it was there at one point, deep inside of us. Knowing that we'll never get it back. As we grew, we were exposed to the most gruesome things. We didn't know what to think or do about them. Just took it, thinking it would go away. Thinking it would all just disappear when the summer came. But things never stopped. It got harder. Names were said, friendships were lost. Life was more complicated than how many people could fit in the sandbox, and who got the last popsicle. We lied, cheated, and stole. Lied to our own flesh and blood. While our parents thought we were at the park, we were out getting high, escaping everything that came near us. We were invincable. Nothing could touch us. We ran and laughed up and down the streets like small children jumping until we reached the sky. Popping pills was a daily activity. It was the only thing to get us through school. It was always a rush, never knowing what you took. Never knowing if you'd live or die, and never knowing what would happen. But as things got worse, so did we. We grew immune to the pills. We grew weary of the yelling and violence. We grew tired of everything. Everything was nothing to us. We had nothing. We walked the streets buzzed out of our minds, just hoping that a car would slide off and hit us. Standing in the middle of the road just waiting to get lucky. Skipping at midnight in the dark hoping someone would forget their headlights. Sad, that we hadn't even reached the age of 14.....Soon razors erased all of our sins. Cuts and scabs danced along our arms and legs like weary ballerinas, waiting for their uncontrollable twirling to stop. Things got out of control. Shallow cuts turned into deep wounds. Drops of blood turned into streams running down our forearms like small crimson water falls. And there was no one there for us. We were all alone. No one noticed. But then again, when was that a surprise? Afterall, we were the model students. We never did wrong. Then we tried to better ourselves, thinking there was something more to life than we thought. God, that was entertaining....We were never able to stop thinking of self hatred. Never able to stop cutting ourselves to pieces. Always wanting that quick high. How sick is that, eh? Everything was spinning, and we couldn't stop it. The only way we could was to die, and we couldn't even do that right. Taking pill upon pill and chasing it with the strongest alcohol we could come across. Smoking everything in sight. Cutting deeper than ever before so that blood made large pools on the tile floor. No matter how much we tried, we just couldn't do it. We finally realized that there was nothing we could do about it. We were born to suffer and die. And suffer was all we've ever done. We were never able to remember that innocence. Never able to remember anything, but that torture. The agony. And that's all there'll ever be. Life is nothing now. We grew up. We grew tired. We gave in.

Memory's a Fickle Thing.

I just want to remember. I remember the memories we made and the words that have been said. I just don't remember the faces. When I look back at memories I can remember who everyone was that was there, but I don't remember the faces; They're all bodies without faces. Everytime I'm away from someone for a while whenever I try to remember them I can, but I can never remember what they look like or what they sound like. It feels like I'm doomed never to remember a face of my beloved friends. Yeah, I do have pictures and videos but everytime I look at them I can never grasp that that is what they really look like. I try desperately to remember what everyone looks like but...I never can. I hate it, but I don't know how to fix it. It's not hard to forget the faces of the people who have done you wrong, but you should never forget the faces of the people who make you feel like you belong. Colorado is the one place where I feel like I actually belong. For the first time in my life I've actually felt like I belong; I no longer feel like an outcast. So why does Daddy want to take it away from me? Yes, it would save me from being so far in debt, but why care about money when your daughter's sanity is at stake? I wish I could tell him everything but everytime I try to it always ends up in one HUGE fight and I don't know if I can take another one. I'm so tired of being in this house. It's driving me insane. I constantly feel like breaking down when I'm at this house. Everywhere else is fine...it's just...this damn house. I just want to go back to Colorado. :/