Every day.
Every day, I'm out on the street, asking for money.
Hell, I'm lucky if I can get $5 in a day. I sit there, head down, cardboard sign; unfolded.
"abused at foster 'home'. trying to make it somewhere and do things. anything helps. God bless," It reads. Every once in a while I'll get a $5 from a woman who's expression is blank but pitiful or a $1 from a snobby businessman, who's probably going home to a warm welcome and a check in the mail. Either one is a score.
I could really use a small loan of $1,000,000 right now.
But I don't give up. I can't give up knowing that I, well- gave up.
Because one day, I'll be on that balcony. Watching. I'll be in the Richard Rodgers, watching the play that saved me.
But I'll explain that part of it another day. And that 'another day' just isn't today. Not tomorrow, either. Nor the next day.
But I can tell you one thing:
I didn't give up.
It was impossible to.
Hell, l didn't even have to try.
Why?
Well, sometimes the stars can align on their own.
YOU ARE READING
Cinnamon Roll||Adopted By Lin-Manuel Miranda
Fanfiction~in which Belle turns her crappy life into something different. Contains serious/graphic topics, all of these sections will be marked with italics.
