Left behind

Family Reunion

As little kids, we loved our stories with magic, and mystery, and adventure. We would always admire the heroes, Imagining ourselves as them. Stories like that would always give me hope, and somehow, it took us to another world.

The stories we grew up with all gave us Hope, as if being sucked into a book and turning into one of the characters.

At night, we'd dream about the dragons and pirates and wizards,
imagining ourselves in the future saving the world, and being the hero in the story.

But hope could possibly be an illusion, a lie, or a mistake.

Maybe hope is Something we say because we are desperate, desperate that maybe, just maybe, things will get better someday.

What I don't get is that in the stories the good guys always won, and it made us believe that bad things could never hurt us.

And man were we wrong.

Kids are so in love with stories because it gives them imagination, and adventure. They believe in magic, so why shouldn't we? Why can't we believe in Santa or the Easter bunny? why can't we dream dreams with happy endings?

We get to start our story with "once upon a time" but why don't our stories end with "and they lived happily ever after"

I can't help but think our minds are tricking us, making us believe fairy tales are real, but then we never get our fairy tale, we never get the prince charming we where looking for.

In fact, we get the complete opposite.

If life isn't about the heroes or happy endings to us, then what is life about? What's the meaning of life? All I know is that we have to figure out how to save ourselves, The only problem is i don't know what I'm saving myself from.

my mind is full of questions I don't know how to answer, and I'm left with one word that repeats in my head until it's solved, "why?".

Why am I so different? Why is life so hard? Why does everyone hate me? Maybe I see myself differently from how others do, maybe I look in the mirror and see a different person then what everyone else sees.

Maybe they see a girl with problems.

Maybe they think I should give up and die already. but I'm not sure if I want to die yet, im not sure what I want exactly.

I know I want people to look at me and treat me like I'm normal, like I'm not helpless.

I want to be able to be normal.

But how am I supposed to be normal when I have so many problems? so many issues? It's not like I can control who I am, and who I want to be.

Let me explain.

My name is Magnolia di Angelo, but I mostly prefer Mags.

My life starts in Venice, Italy, the day my mom and dad were given two baby girls, identical twins.

I actually don't remember the date of the day I was born, my father is the one who holds my birth certificate, yet I don't know my father, and I don't know where he is.

My parents decided They would name my sister Bianca di' Angelo, and me, Magnolia' di Angelo.

My mother said my dad left for business reasons soon after I was born, which was a lie, I almost never saw him again, I assumed he abandoned us, but years later, while me and my mom were playing, my dad appeared to greet my mom. I wasn't to happy about it, but I was to young to say anything about the situation.

Anyways, I'm gonna spare you some details on what happened between them and just skip to the part where my mom is heavily pregnant 9 months later.

I don't remember much, since I was still a child, but I do remember seeing my baby brother, Nico di Angelo, be born.