every day and almost every night, i have to hear those girls scream and throw fits as they try and fail to become accustomed to our rules. but i cant stay in earshot of that for more than a minute or so. i learned quickly that hearing the fights, and the arguments, the tantrums and most of all my fathers voice yelling right back, would bring back everything i remembered from when i was there age. at that time, i was constantly scared, always afraid especially when i got into trouble for some odd reason or another. my fathers hand would always fly high and fast, and i would always flinch away, from that thing coming my way. i remember not being able to move out of fear of punishment for doing so. learning to not say a word so that i would not get a harsh word back. and now as i hear the scream and see the tears again, i remember my own fear, in their simple anger, and even now, older and more a veteran to it, i still tremble at the memory of it.
Just because I do not fear death, doesn't mean I'll welcome it with open arms.
When I die, I'm sure I'll go to heaven. Because all my life was spent in hell.
I can't tell if I'm tired of being alone, or just simply tired of being.[/color:a1f8418932]
[img:a1f8418932]http://i1016.photobucket.com/albums/af281/RmeGamr/ItsHard.png[/img:a1f8418932]
