I'm not psycotic.

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People say I'm psycotic. But can you blame me? I was born and raised in a junk yard.I learned how to build a small robot before I learned my ABC's.My mom recently left me and I have no friends.I see the world differently than everyone else.

I see friends in statues that I wielded out of old junk. I've actually had conversations with an old volkswagon bug.

Tomorrow dad's going to take me with him to his job since I have no one else to watch me while he's gone.The junk yard is not the safest place for a young girl like me to stay at by myself.

Dad say's there are animatronics at his work.He works at some sort of pizzaria. I've never been. I kinda wish I didn't have to go. Not like I have anything better to do or anything it's just that... me and my dad don't exactly get along. Ever since mom left he has gone back to drinking. Sometimes when he's really drunk he comes into my room (if you even call it a room) and beats me blaming me for mom leaving. I've almost gotten used to it. Almost.

I crawled under the covers of my bed and stared at the glow in the dark star stickers on the ceiling. I'm going to be staying at a pizza place all day tomorrow with screaming kids and gross greasy pizza. Fun. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. _____________________________________________________________

Sorry for any spelling mistakes.

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