Richard Collins - 19 years old - Brown hair, blue eyes - Adopted.
Yes, that's right. I'm adopted. Not that my real parents couldn't take care of me, they just didn't want to. I was left at my grandmother's house when I was two years old, my parents never returned. My granny died 6 years ago, so I'm living with my foster parents right now. Ever since I've been with them, I haven't felt real happiness. There's no place I feel at home. My friends noticed and they made me go to a therapist.
This therapist isn't someone I trust. I don't trust anyone. All I do is keeping things to myself, hiding my feelings. A lot of nights I cry myself to sleep, without any good reason. I don't want to know the reason anyway.
I could move out of this house, but I wouldn't have anything left. I don;t have enough money for a house, let alone for food and clothes. So I stay here, hoping op a lot of money suddenly or something. Maybe I should get a job. Maybe not. I don't really care right now.
This thing is stupid. Why do I write in here? It's not like it's going to help anyway. I promised my therapist to do it, but I'm still sure it won't work. Maybe he'll read it or something. For if he does: Hi mr. Biddle, you're a pain in the *ss. Why don't you go f*ck yourself? c:
Done with that, what is there left to tell?
Oh something nice. Next week there is this festival, with different bands I like. I'm going there with my cousin, my real cousin. She's the only one of the family I know and we're pretty close to each other. She has a lot of money and pays the tickets. She had offered me to come and live with her, but she lives far away and I don't want to leave everything behind. Besides, I don't want to bother her and her husband. This weekend I'm heading to her's, so I can stay the whole week of the festival there. I'm looking forward to it, I really do.
There's nothing much more to say and I'm tired. I'm going to sleep, so I'll talk to you tomorrow I guess.
