I miss it, you know? The creaky, red stained swings that children loved.
The sky was always the limit for them, the higher and higher you soared, the closer you were to touching the small bits of fluff they used to say held all your hopes and dreams.
Mine obviously got caught in a tree or soared above expectation because all I ever wanted out of my life, was to be a happy family, it was like realising you can't buy that cool skateboard from the sickest brand in the northern hemisphere because your credit card was declined. Only worse.
It was like a kitten changing into a jaguar, a ball of joy with a tiny heart that beats fast rushing after a yarn ball in the warm sun, to a silky soft coated monster who scares everyone he once cared for away to hide in the lightest of sights while he, himself, shades in the darkest of dreams.
It's frightening to imagine that about yourself, but I guess once you're like old wooden floors under heavy feet, you can't compete with such social powers of the crazy circus they call a school. Mum gave up. I gave up. Then Adrian gave up. So the game stayed strong for the ill hearted, even if it wasn't their intentions.
