My life is a lie.

And here it continues.

Several months later- My drowsy eyes lift open to my good luck song, "In the morning when you wake up I like to believe you are thinking of me." For some reason it makes me think of my mom, who I never knew, because I have two dads. Well, I did. All I know about her that she had cancer, so I'm not sure if I could get cancer either. It worries me. That's why I express my feelings a little too much.

Sirens wail to the sound of cars calling out to each other. It's a quarter till nine. I've got fifteen minutes to make myself decent until my cab comes to take me away. I can't drive. Never learned. Again about the whole asshole of a dad thing.

The shower's glum, depressing, cold basically it feels like you are dying in a freezing lake. And stepping out of the shower causes just as much pain. The floor is concrete, not the fancy cool colored kind it's light grey with several cracks and darker stains. Ones red. Not sure where that's from. My hair is long, so I always just toss it into a bun with any material I can find, usually it's just shoelaces or if I get lucky a rubber band. Shaving isn't necessary because I can't grown any hair besides on my head. I think it's some disease or something. I've only been to the doctors less than a couple times with my other dad. I was too young then for them to decide anything.

A loud screech of the rubber wheels on the hot asphalt hinted to me that my cab was here. Well kind of a cab. The appearance was just as bad as my apartment. The outside, a faded pale yellow with black letters saying "axi" I just assumed that the t had fallen off. The driver, middle aged, Irish with a full head of grey hair including a Santa Claus beard. I preceded to tell him that I ordered a taxi not an axi. All I received was a look like "I can so kick your ass right now." I popped open the trunk but it was already filled with black packages and dusty face masks. Another "kick your ass" look from the man. Quickly I threw in my earbuds and plugged it into my iPod. The song was ready for me to absorb its luck.

The ride being several hours was nerve-racking. Several awkward moments finding porn magazines and the driver was breathing heavily while staring at me out of the corner of his eyes, I knew nothing good was going to come out of this. The air is humid in the car and me pleading to crack a window is about the only thing I can gasp out. My iPod is dead so there's no use for me to use my lucky song. My brain hurts. "In the morning... " Oh shit I can't fucking remember it. Don't fucking go insane on me Charlie. Everything's quiet. I begin to remember the lyrics. "In the morning when you wake up I like to believe you are thinking or me and when the sun comes through your window I like to believe you've been dreaming of me drea..." Another terrifying look interrupted my singing and told me to shut up. But that's all I usually need to be fine.

I leaned over the dashboard to turn on the radio, successfully I got it on and also a slap to the hand. But I've felt worse. Within the first second I could've tell it was my song. The driver or now I know as Fredrick asked me what song this is. "Tee Shirt by Birdy" I screeched, it's my good luck song. That conversation ended up in a this song sucks and the radio turned off by him.

It wasn't a fun ride. But I am here, practically heaven.