The Weird And The Wonderful.

The Weird And The Wonderful. [7]

[A/N]

Hey, I know I havn't uploaded in a while, well, maybe slightly longer then a while, but I really hope people havn't given up on this story yet, although I'm not sure there was many of you to begin with :D 

P.S Also if there is anyone out there who has any ideas for the cast of this story please comment and let me know :D, I'm totally stumped :O

P.P.S If anyone could make me a new cover I would be soooo grateful and perhaps even dedicate a chapter or two :D..

Love..

Chapter Eight

~Shut your eyes and think of somewhere, somewhere cold and caked in snow..~

When I look back on the years that led to my parents death I find myself struck by a great many emotions. Sadness, that they were gone. Happiness, in those years I got to spend with them and pain, because no matter how hard I tried bits and pieces of them were disappearing from my memory every day.

Nothing really important, but the little things, like how they smelled and how they went about their morning routine. I have even begun struggling to remember the sweet tones of my mother and the undoubtable raspiness of my fathers voice.

No matter how many times I sat alone trying to hear their voices in my head I never seemed to get it right. It was a sad thought, one that pained me but I guess my brain, without my consent, was getting rid of old things in order to hold in new information. 

Like everything else in life you had to get rid of something in order to gain something else. It was the bittersweet circle of life, something we all fall victim to at one point or another.

When I was put into care I had the opportunity to meet other kids like myself, kids who had been where I had been at that time.In complete and utter denied. Denial, that my parents were really just wiped from the face of the earth. Denial, that I was now and orphan with no one, but above all I was in denial about who I was. 

I had somehow come to the conclusion that if I had no one to love me I wasn't an actual person. 

I had been so wrong. I understand that now, but the time I had been a kid who was sad and hating the world for it's injustice.

During the four years I was in care I came to realize that it wasn't other people who made me who I am, yes, perhaps some people had influenced me, such as my mother and father, but at the end of the day, who I was, was something I had created. I was my own special being and no amount of love, or lack there of, could change that.

This is why, when I left care, for the first time since that first day in school, I wasn't afraid to be myself. I was my own person, my own special creation and I was proud of that.

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It is strange what pops into your head when your alone. Strange what wicked thoughts can creep up on you if your not on your guard.

Luckily for me, I had always been very careful, not allowing myself to think into things, I had worked hard to push myself from that downward spiral I had been on and I had no intention of going back to it.

Just as the bad thoughts began taking over I would quickly distract myself with something else. At that point in my life it was getting out of the shower without drenching the bandage on my leg, that served as a barrier.

Believe me, trying to shower while holding the clear bag over my leg had been one hell of a task, but somehow I had managed to keep my bandage dry. 

Stepping out of the shower, I threw that damn bag in the sink and quickly wrapped myself in a towel. I really hated showering in other peoples homes. Even in the many foster homes I had been in I never felt comfortable.