Picture this: peace, hope, love and joy. These four words haven't ever been used by me. They probably will only exist the live of those that are free. One of my biggest unachievable dreams, along with seeing the beautiful, colourful outside world.
Everyone out there uses these words normally- with no second thought. They probably don't even know their true meaning. Do you? One of my favourite things to do is to search the meanings of words. Although I don't get a chance to do it very often because my owner catches me and beats me up. But I'm very grateful that the one thing she lets me do is cutting- or any form of self harm. The pain is irresistible. The reason she doesn't mind is because when she shows me to her boss, by having lots of cuts and bruises, it makes her look more powerful and good at her job. I hate my new owner so much because of the way she treats me.
My average day consists of eating an apple (the only food I'm allowed), being forced on a treadmill to run for an hour or until I faint, getting a beating and my free time- self harm. If this doesn't seem like much to you, have a go at my lifestyle for 15 years.
My mother died of childbirth before I even opened my eyes for the first time and I've never even thought about my father. So this is why the hospital decided to sell me on. Are they even allowed to sell children? Just shows how much I know having never even seen a school. It's okay I can write and I've just finished teaching myself to count. Anyway, I was taken away by this training company to help calm prisoners by beating me. There was this one guy, he was a very slim, short man and he used to hold me in his arms instead. I still remember him because he is probably the nicest person I will ever meet.
When I turned ten they though I was too old to be used there so I was rejected and taken to a hospital like prison where I remain now and forever. Having had such a negative life, it's hard to think positive. But the best part about my life is meeting the new owners and listening to their special stories about different children. Actually, they call us trolls, pigs, asses, waste of spaces, bitches and unwanted but it's nicer if I call us children.
In my life I have never seen any other children. The only people I get to see are owners when they come and see if they want me. Sadly but luckily that is very rarely. I have just been given a new owner last month but they seem to get worse every time. Usually I get a new one every year but my last one hated my guts so they got rid of me early. They get to choose what my daily routine is and how much I eat and drink. At the moment I only get a glass of milk once a week to help my bones get stronger and an apple because they think it will clench my thirst. I really like being skinny but it would be nice to get water instead of food. The apples are always rotten and dry as well as the milk being out of date.
I really wish life would improve. I am also stuck inside all day everyday. I need some colour in my life. The only colours I have ever seen are black, white and red. Red is my favourite colour because it symbolises blood. Blood is so spectacular because it causes pain. If there was no pain I would've killed myself years ago because pain is the only point of living. Everything I own causes me pain; a knife- in a physical way, a dictionary- in a mental way. All those depressing words to delve into the meaning of. It almost sounds as good as heaven but I guess I'll never experience that.
Language is an amazing thing as it always has intrigued me in how different sounds can be used to communicate between people. Almost as much as imaging things. The idea that you can get images of the worlds most random things into your head, and how you can make stories up by thinking about a few objects- it's truly fascinating. How amazing would it be if you could transfer idea out of your imagination into the real world? But even if that did happen it wouldn't help me in anyway because I live somewhere worse than hell. Actually you should say survive because living is happy and easy to cope with but surfing is the complete opposite, it's like hanging onto the last thread of your life not knowing when it will break.
But the next stage in life for me isn't any of those things. I think 15 years is long enough to be living in hell. I can imagine heaven to be a lot nicer: peace, hope, love and joy. It's time to go.
Imagine this: running your finger along the edge of a knife sharp enough to cut through anything. Your arm shaking so much it's making it difficult to pick up that knife. Raising your hand with the knife in up to your neck. You hear footsteps along the corridor getting louder as they approach your door. You smell the stench of the rotten apple- whilst thinking shall I die hungry and skinny or eat first and be fat. Your eyes dart from the knife to the door and back to the knife. Your eyes begin to fill with tears for the last time ever. You bring your arm further away to gather some momentum and swoosh you're gone.
That's how it all ended. My sadness.
