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My dad always deprived me and my sister from other human interactions. We had human interaction, but not necessary enough for any normal person.

I only knew him and some of his friends. I never had anyone who was my age, and then I had Hestia, but like all relationships, it gets tiring and sometimes I didnt want to hang out with her, and her with me.

That's probably why I love reading, it gives me an insight in other peoples lives, their friends, lovers, relationships.

They were my friends, and it may sound weird but try living without other people your age for nineteen years.

It might sound a bit cruel on my dad's part, but we didnt have much of a voice.

My thoughts slowly dragged on with my restless sleep, only to be bothered by my evil subconscious who wouldnt let me sleep.

I'm sure it was about three in the morning when I decided to sit in the living room to read a book again.

I slumped down on the cold beige couch and draped a wool checkered blanket over me.

I smoothed the ridges of the old paper down and picked up where I finished reading.

The book spoke about love and falling in love, and though I believed no one could truly love another person, I let myself dive in that reality and drown out the real world problems.

Perhaps maybe I was just predestined to be lonesome in romance, love was for those who had the time.

If my life was running away from my father's past forever, I'd never settle in a place where people could enjoy me without me hurting them.

I was tired of running, tired of instability.

My father said living in a house and never moving was boring, but he did say he wished for me to get out in the real world when it's safe, whenever that is.

Reading about all the things people did at their own houses, parties, meals, hangouts. All of it made me wish I had someone to love. Even if I'd never completely love them back.

If you really think about it, love never lasts.

At that moment, my small, closed-off mind wondered what it felt like to be hugged by someone other than my dad and sister. To kiss someone and relish in them.

Maybe I was convinced that no one ever truly loves someone, but I was obsessed with the idea to be loved by someone.

Ah, the symptoms of being lonely.

The winds outside added extra effect to the windy scene in the book, I adored when weather matched fiction.

Time was sped up by Cronus himself, and it was roughly about six in the morning when my father emerged from his room, already dressed, and groomed for the day.

"Hera?" He shook his head, "Darling, you've been awake the whole morning haven't you?"

I nodded sheepishly, "Yes. It's the book. Has me hooked."

"Well, I'm very glad it did so, but the people from work should be arriving pretty soon."

I got up, "I'll get dressed, will you make me some eggs?"

"Yes, sweet child. Hurry." My father hushed me out of the room and I sighed at his antics, anxious man he was.

I grabbed my warm sweats and dragged them over my soft morning skin. Looking over to see Hestia fast asleep.

I brushed my teeth and braided my hair back into a single braid, I was hesitant to wash my face with the cold water, but did so anyways. Acne was not welcomed.

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