Every time I start to use my brain for thinking, I begin to lose the will to remain in this house. I want, I need to get out of here, but there's nowhere to go. Friends are busy and far away. Sometimes, I curse the fact that I chose this place to live when I could have had things so easy and been close to someone I love all of the time. Back then, I knew I had to come here so that I had the space to grow up a little more and not depend on her for every little thing. Now, I just want to know I'm safe. I don't want to worry about the impact of my actions on a 12 year old boy. I don't want to think about how I might make things worse. I can't stop going down the path that I've now chosen for myself. I just wish I had a little help and someone to look after me. I guess though, that ultimately, I shouldn't be the one to want that anymore. I should be the one to give that comfort to someone else who might not be as strong as me.

Sometimes I hate being strong because my emotions just stick and I don't get the chance to cry. Other times, I wish I was stronger and could deal with things a lot better. Life's a funny thing at the end of the day. I'll just take what I'm given, and carry on smiling. It's the only way I know.