Daggers in the heart'

Monologue

I was a normal 16 year old girl living in Canada with not much of a story to tell except from the odd fights with my friends or dramas around my house, but nothing anyone would call special. My parents always enjoyed travelling. I remember them sitting me on their laps at night and telling me stories about the places they moved to and the people they met.

But all the magic stopped once my Mother died then my Father changed into something nobody would ever dream to live with. But as we have gotten older my Father carried on moving us place to place trying to get away from all the 'rumours' that have been started. I'm the sort of girl who can make friends with someone and hang on till its to late, then I have to pack my bags and leave again, the amount of people who mean something special to me is getting silly now. I can hardly contact them all, it just gets too much.

My last move was from London to Wolverhampton. My Father told me it wasn't far away and I could take a train journey down and meet my friends. He was trying to persuade me but I knew this was all complete rubbish and would never happen, but I go along with it, where else could I go? He had said this about nearly every place we had moved too.

Basically it went like this: I met someone, we got close, It's all great for awhile, Then I have to move, we promise to write and get in contact, then someone stops trying, We talk less, Awkward conversations on the phone, The drifting, No communication whatsoever, Our memories start to fade, then that person I KNOW becomes that person I KNEW. That's how it usually goes. Sad isn't it.