By the Mountainside.

Prologue.

I, as a young child, took the concept of love too lightly. My mother was an editorial director for a world-wide known magazine, and as a strong and respected woman of the enterprise, she was expected to follow authority for many of the projects performed out of the country. Her to be associated with many people coming and going was an understatement, but there was a certain someone that never left.

To be quite frank, he didn't seem to bother me at first, but later on throughout my mother and father's relationship, arguments started to escalate on a daily basis. I was quick to realize that the swaying and happy family I had once known, had taken a trip to the reversed direction.

Raised voices skyrocketed faster than an awestruck audience at a rock concert, and it sometimes got too bad, that my father was left to leave the house for a while. I started to develop this deep hatred towards that man my mom saw every day. It was because of him that my parents were having regular yelling sessions.

Was I one to blame?

This happened for another month until my mother and father had applied for a divorce, which was later succeeded only to lead to another engagement sometime later.

Devastation was the only thing that could describe my feelings at the time. I soon came to learn the definition of love.

Love, is a thing that leads to despair, unhappiness. We are forced to think that this concept will somehow lead to happiness.

Somehow.

The summer I had finished my second year of schooling, my mother had to leave the country for industrial means. With my father out of the house, I was left to go live with my uncle for the summer.

This wasn't the beginning of my theoretical experience with love, this was rather the end.

(A/N: sorry for the short ending, deal with it.)