A new town; a new identity. My life has been full of new beginnings, never lasting long enough for any substance to be acquired, though that is not necessarily by choice. None of them are better then the next. Hope stays alive in me though, it’s all I have. I can feel that there is something for me out there, and just need to find it. I am still kept dreaming.
I am young with few belongings or things to tie me down. All of my possessions are either on my body or fit comfortably within my backpack. I never unpack it completely and am ready to move on at a moments notice. I’ve been moving for five years now, ever since puberty struck. My family cast me out. I don’t blame them; it’s safer for us both this way. I miss them though. I am so lonely.
After years of unfortunate mishaps, I’ve learned that little good comes from letting myself become especially angry.
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