Orphaned

A/N: Hi there, and (whether intentionally or out of sheer luck) thanks for making your way to this story. If you don't like it, please tell me why, so that I can edit it and improve it. If you like it, please tell me why too; it'll help make my future stories better. I am not an orphan in the slightest, but I thought that it'd be "fun" to look at it as one instead of as myself, choosing to portray the hopeful orphan, yet still with a hint of sadness. Tell me what you think, or if you find any errors. If I offend anyone, I apologize in advance. Thanks, and enjoy :)

It's not fun to be an orphan. Lying awake at night among scratchy sheets, listening to the soft sh-sh-sh of breathing around you like breaking waves. I try to imagine that they're floating me out to sea some nights, down the long hallway that always smells like French Vanilla Febreeze, past the one creaky step on the wooden staircase, and finally far away from this little dove-grey building that people sometimes try to call my home.

Maybe it used to be fun to be an orphan. You got to run through cobblestone streets and dance and laugh in one big pack. You could join a gypsy camp, or get a job. I could fall asleep to real shining stars instead of the glowing ones that they plastered on the roof for Keiki's birthday. Real stars are white, like the 1% milk that Miss Joaney picks up once a week, creamy and rich and real. The ones dangling from the roof are alien green with fake sparkles on them, only plastic that has been given the gift of light. I don't think they deserve it.

I'll never stop being an orphan. Especially not on days like today, when it's rainy and quiet and we have cauliflower with dinner. Because even though not having parents doesn't bother me now, I'm sure that soon enough it will descend and snatch me up with yellowing talons like one of those ugly bald-headed turkey vultures that I see pecking at dead things on the side of the road.

Maybe someday it will be fun to be an orphan. Once I'm out and gone and have my own big clean room to live in and get to eat ice cream for dinner every so often and wear clothes that aren't always second-hand. Then I can sleep under real stars if I want to, maybe. Once I'm gone, maybe I'll find some fun, in all this mess.