Met Avia, she been babied since who knows when. From carrot sticks for lunch to not being able to shower with the door closed, all she wants is some independence.
Meet Emmi, she grew up like a normal child, learning how to read in the first grade, r...
I wake up early Saterday morning. I got all my homework done last night for the weekend like I usually do. I put on my clothes and put on my gym shows. Mom's still passed out on the couch. I put a few granola bars, a few waters and two sandwiches in my bag and quietly leave the house.
I wouldn't actually run away. I jut spend every weekend outside from seven to dark. I walk outside and just walk on the path looking around me. Everything's quiet and most are asleep. My house is pretty much a mile out of town, but that's okay. I don't mind the walk. I walk in to the shady woods and look up at the tall trees surrounding me. I find the tree I've climbed on since I was six. It's super tall to most people, but to me it's not too bad.
I place my hand on a brach amd pull my self up. My fee fnd a good spot and go up to the next until I'm about thirty feet up. I look down and grin. I pull myself up a little more and find the branch I usually sit on. I've carved my name in. That was when I eight, when I found a pocket knife on the ground. I've had the same knife since amd keep it in my backpack.
I take it out and carve a few more drawings in. I put that out and just sit and stare at the scenery. The wind blows, whipping my hair.
I've been doing this same thing for six years. I knew as a little girl I wasn't loved as a child should. As anyone should. I learned to do things on my own. Shopping, cooking and cleaning Things a mother knows, apparently not my mom.
I've been independent like this all my life and it's getting to the point where it's no longer fun. I do this every Saterday and Sunday. I wake up, check up on my mom, pack, leave, eat, come back and then sleep.
Kids don't talk to me. I don't blame them. I smell like beer and smoke. I don't even realize I'm crying until I feel a drop on my hand. I wipe my eyes but more tears come. Decorating my hand like rain drops on a window.
I feel my eyes full and my soft crys turn to sobs. Everything I've been through, I've never cried until now. I guess everything's gotten to me. I lean against the trunk and let the tears fall. I pull my knees to my chest and squeeze my backpack to my chest.
I've never felt what true love was like ever since my grandmother died.
I push my backpack off my lap and put my head in my knees and wrap my arms around my self.
I just want to give up.
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