Everyone thinks that were perfect. That we have the perfect little lives. With the perfect little dresses with the perfect color. The perfect little house in our perfect little world. But they haven't seen the inside, where the storm clouds grow. The darkness of this house is so unbearable, many of us have lost our sanity. With the empty stare we give, and masks on our face.
Father and mother work for some big incorporation In their spare time, they don't know we know, but they also work for a drug company. My brother, Jamie, steals their cannabis. They don't even notice.
We can never have a normal conversation. The only kind of "talking" that happens in this house is our parents yelling at us for doing things wrong. Don't you think it's funny how they tell us how to live? Don't you think it's funny how we are all delinquent kids? Our neighbors don't seem to notice the noise, as if there's a sound proof wall around our house. Also, we never leave the house unless it's for school or a special occasion, like the death of a family member or a wedding.
Harming ourselves in a way is normal for this family, it's just easy to hide. My mother drinks, My brother smokes, my father cheats and I cut. But hey, none of this matters when you live inside what seems to be a dollhouse.
