Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

Black. That's all I saw, actually it's all I wanted to see. Stars made the appearance, sometimes of forming in the black, but they never stayed for long. My eyes always open again and again to see the world around me: dirt, moldy wood, starving kids, and sick animals. I wanted to stay in the stary black world, yet my eyes always find away to bring me back.

My name is Hazzel Ratthicio Harger, (made up person) I am 8. My life hasn't really begun yet. Not in my perspective anyway. I wouldn't call a dirty orphanage living. I'm hoping that one day I will run off and live on my own. In my own house. In the house there will be a huge library filled with wondrous books.  As for my pets, I will have a dog, and a cat. Both will keep me company mentally and physically. My brain will be contained with adventure and mystery. Hazzel, will be known all around. But, for now, I live in an old rustic orphanage.

Sometimes, I try reading books to help me escape. They bring me to far off places ,even astronauts can't go. My thoughts bubble inside, exploring the adventures around me. I snap back to reality; Fingers, all muddy; Face, all ugly; Clothes, all dirty. I didn't want to come back to my reality.

My head mistress, Ms. Secrice, at the orphanage  hates me. She has wavy hair, and blue eyes. Her skin is pail with rosy cheeks and skinny bones. Out of the books I've read, she reminds me of the skeletons with hair. They're mean, cruel, and vicious. Blood thirsty at that. Sometimes, she'll even take my books away from me, while I'm reading them, and throw them in the fire. She feeds off of the screams in my books. Tears, tears, and more tears. They blurred my vision making my steps hazy, as I try to fish out my books. Once I lost a nail trying to get one of my Harry Potter books out of the fire. Eveyone just laughed.

When I look into the mirror, I don't see me. I see a rat. My long blonde hair covereing my face. I have hazel eyes that gleam in the candel light. Puffy cheeks outline my skinny lips. Tan skin, almost sun burned, hide my eyebrows. Some kids at the orphanage make fun of me, because my eyebrows are so hard to see. No one seems to want to be a rats friend around here.

After a few years I gave up. Not just on life, but the thought or hope that I would actually get adopted. No one wants a 8 year old rat. Except this once when I was 5. I was adopted by a lovely young couple, but they found out they couldn't handle another kid. They didn't realize 4 kids would be so much work. I was the 1 out the 4 to leave. The only good part about that couple was that they let me keep all the books I wanted from their library, so I wouldn't get bored at the orphanage. It has filled my lonely days ever since.

Food. The only word that makes me gag. At the orphanage, our food is whatever we make ourselves, or worms and old mashed potatoes that the chef makes. Usually I'm stuck eating worms and whatever they call the potato stuff now. The older kids always take my lunch. They rip it right out of my hands and eat it all. All my hard work in the feild and the woods, wasted on spoiled kids. I try never to waste my time on them though.

Have you ever had that feeling, that you want to do something crazy, but you know it's not right. That's basically my life. Every night, I'm haunted at the thought of running away. If I get caught, I could go to jail. 

Once your 20 your sent out on your own with a lunch bag and 500 dollars. My life is too short to wait 12 more years. I'm a bird trapped in a cage of sadness. The sadness makes me weak and broken. My wings spread open trying to fly, but they keep getting chipped down by reality. 

Life isn't a metaphor. It's reality. Reality is torchure. Torchure, makes you weaker. What helps you once you are weak, and you gain your strength back? You do it over again, until your life is done testing you. The pain inflicts you like a virus. Starting at one, then more, until finally 'many' happens.

I'll find myself. It might not be today tomorrow, or the next day, but I will find myself.