It's only the night again, the welcomed darkness, the place that embraced me such a long time ago. I can't remember when exactly, but I'll probably never know for sure. I used to ask so many questions when I was younger.... so much younger then, but my words are still now, sucked into a vacuum somehow along the way, never for me to recognise them again.
It's only a place you'll never know, but you listened anyway to my clumsy efforts at describing it. Did you notice I sounded brave and didn't shed a tear? Did you notice the tremour in my voice when I reached my breaking point and then turned around so fast, that what you really saw was a smile on my face, as if I was making it all seem a joke? I have become such a master at making my own emotions appear trivial, something no one would ever take seriously. Perhaps I have fallen prey to my own deceit. Victim of my own delusions.
What do you know of me if so much of "me" has been hidden and locked away in the deepest recesses of my mind? What do you make of the blundering words I weave in an effort to create this smokescreen?
Who would care, I keep wanting to scream? Who would care? Would you? WOULD YOU? Or do you go back to your family at night and close the door and leave this orphaned girl alone with the creatures of the dark?