Chained to you

"The world is a cold, hard, cruel place.

You can't trust anyone here,

They will all turn their backs on you, leaving you in a dark pitch.

Nowhere to go trapped forever,

Like as if you're being chained down to the earth struggling to fly free.

You can fantasise all you want but reality will slap you back hard.

This isn't a lovely dream, this is reality and reality doesn't wait for the weak,

Reality leaves them behind and moves on.

You have to struggle to keep up,

Only the worthy ones remain.

Every man goes solo to survive."

Hello my name is Marcia and here is my life, I'm a homeless orphan. I live in the CBD or you could say Central Business District. I live on the streets here to earn money of course. This place is like a city kind of, many tourist come here and I sing and earn coins. I like singing. It makes me happy. I guess my singing voice is the only thing I have except for my clothes. Well I guess I'm not exactly homeless. I might get a night stay at a hotel if I do some work. I don't remember the last time I exactly had a 'parents', all I remember is living with my grandpa and grandma. They never said anything about my parents, I didn't seem to mind. I lived with them until both of them passed away, I was 7. It was painful, my childhood memories of warm soup on cold rainy days and ice-cream in the summer just felt like a dream.

Since I had no other relatives I'm forced to live on the streets. Some kind neighbours let me stay for quite some time before they got sick of it and pushed me out when I was 11-12. Then I learnt that I was living in a bubble. I just realised how the world worked, people aren't kind at all. I was homeless and looking for help, only angels appear sometimes but they disappear among the crowd of demons, monsters.

"get away from me you filthy child"

"eww mommy it's a hobo"

"ran away from home eh? Trouble some kids"

They think I cant hear at all, no I can hear quite well, I can hear very clearly actually. Like I said before, I sing on the streets to earn some coins for some take-away food, sometimes I scab.

People say my singing was good even though I was 11-12 I kept on singing earning an average of 10 dollars a day, apparently I'm a pretty good singer. I earn more than the others here on the streets though. Sometimes suicidal thoughts fill my mind when things turn for the worst. Just feeling as if I'm the only one in the world. Sometimes I think that if I die everything will be... well gone. No more worries or concerns. I don't have a goal in life so why bother worrying about survival every day, if only I could end all my worries and pain. I just feel like ending my life sometimes but thinking of my grandparents I keep living. I'm waiting for something to happen. Anything? I just want to be loved again. I never knew that on a cold winter's day that thing that I have been waiting for would come. I can still remember that day so clearly as if it just happened yesterday.

It was a cold day, cold enough where when you exhale a mist of fog escapes, just like the memories back then where I used to pretend that I was a "cool" kid and I'm smoking, obviously grandma didn't like the idea I had of smoking while exhaling out cold foggy mist but memories like that are just triggered by small things as this.

"Well I guess it's time to start" I whispered to myself. Gradually getting up was quite a pain when all of your body is frozen rock but when I get up its was time to start the thing that I have been doing for these past years, singing. I feel as if I'm being lifted into the sky and slowly being embraced into a deep feeling of happiness, until I felt something heavy on my shoulder. I looked to my left to see a guy that looked around my age? He had dark brown hair like mine but mesmerising eyes of hazel-green, they were very... pretty as if they were glowing jewels, they were literally shinning...