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The year is 2015, of May on the 8th day.
Just on April 30th, of 2012, my little brother and little sister were taken by Social Services. I didn't understand it, I didn't even know why. They were just taken. I was with my little brother and sister since day one. I love them to death. To see them ripped away from my grasp like that. . . it hurt. It felt as if my heart was ripped out and torn, burned, kicked, thrown, and all bad things like that. Even as I write this, I feel the same thing. It hurts. It hurts so much. Then, I felt numb. I was numb to the pain. I buried it so far down that I won't think about it and it won't hurt. Because. Every time I think about it, I start to cry. And it's being brought up every single day. I push it aside, and not think about it. Until it's brought up again. I keep trying to push it back. Knowing that if I say something, it would hurt more. So I keep quiet. But there are some times where I can't hold it back anymore. It's normally when it's brought up, and only me and my mom together. Then it goes to the issue with my dad.

You see, my dad verbally abuses me and my mom. He gets angry at us for simple things. And this has been going on for years. Back to when I was a child. So don't tell me it's because of my siblings being taken away. It's so bad. I can barely talk back to my dad without breaking out in silent tears. I don't know what he did to me. I don't know what to feel about it. I don't know why I cry about it. I feel as if I'm threatened to keep quiet. If I say something. . . something bad is going to happen. I don't know. I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't remember my happy past. I can't remember my strong self. I feel so lost. But I'm sitting right here. Maybe that's why I'm the lost trainer, or the lost akatsuki. Or just lost.

I feel tired most of the time, mainly because I stay up late until like 5am. I try and drown myself in the internet as much as I can, hoping to escape reality. It works half the time, but I can't focus on my other projects anymore. My writing has stopped, I don't draw as much anymore, I don't read as much anymore, I don't play games that much anymore. I just. . . feel. . . well I don't know. I don't feel anything. I guess I'm still numb. I don't look at myself as much, like I'm worthless, and only other people matter more then me. I can never talk much, I lost all social skill outside of the internet. I just listen to stories. Or just listen to other people, or just look out the car window and drift away in my own thoughts. I don't talk. I don't say that I'm mad, or sad. That I'm happy, or bored. I did say I was bored once, but it only ended in my mom getting mad at me. Then my mind starts to wander and I think of the situation all over again. It makes me want to cry. It reminds me that. They are not here. They are not here, and I am here alone. All alone.

But, I remember that I'm not alone. My cat is beside me, my mom is upstairs, sharing my pain. I'm someone with a big heart, as everyone keeps telling me. I want to see the good in everyone, yet now I'm weary of everyone around me. Like if I say something it will be used against me and it will hurt. So I say nothing, and say something when needed to. I don't talk. I listen. And because I listen, no one wants to say anything around me. They try to distract me, but I know what is going on because I listen. I may not look as if I'm not caring, but I truly am. I care.

I care. I care about everyone around me, I careful of what I say. I try to smile, but even that is hard to do and I end up staying sad. Depressed. I don't know how many times I stopped typing and wiped my eyes. It's hard not to press backspace and erase all of this. I know I'm coming off as a depressing little whiner. I know it sounds as if I want everyone to look at only me and pity me. Only I matter. But. . . it's not true. I don't want pity. I don't want sympathy. I don't want you to look at me as if I am a lost puppy.

My mom went to a psychic, she says that were getting my little brother and sister back. But then again, I knew that from day one. Maybe that's why I'm not that worried. Not that sad. Or maybe I'm just numb. I don't know. I don't know of my own self. Maybe it's a good thing? Or maybe I'm just being a little scared. Scared of being hurt even more. These 3 years were no picnic. I hurt. My heart hurts. My little siblings hurt. My mom hurts. Everyone hurts.

I recently started thinking of rain. It helps. It feels as if I'm being washed of these bad feelings. I can feel the rain. It feels nice. I try to think of it more often. I can hear it sometimes. I feel it around me. It's calming. It's nice. I like it. It's a happy feeling. The rain. Rain.

Everyone knows what happens after the rain. The bright sun shine, the colorful rainbow. It's pretty. Right now, we're just in the eye of the storm. It's so calming. Maybe that's why I'm thinking about the rain. Court is coming up soon, I'm sticking with mom all the way through. Never mind my dad. It feels as if he started all this. What with him treating me and my mom like were worthless. Yelling at us.

I feel better typing all this out. Thanks for reading if you did. It doesn't even matter if you read it or not. I was just typing. Letting out feelings. Thoughts. Even if I can't say it out loud. It's nice to talk to someone, even if that someone is just a blank page. It listens to what I have to say, and doesn't talk back of bad things. It's nice.