When I was little, I enjoyed being curled up in my mother’s arms, watching a thunder storm and thinking- this is Delaware, it’s not scary thunder, it’s falling tractors. Now that I think about it, I laugh- how naïve my thoughts were, even at the age of eleven.
I used to enjoy cleaning house with my best friend, just to earn a couple bucks so we could go to the dollar store and buy candy and a drink, and maybe a few odd objects and a new chapstick that tasted like cotton candy; yeah, you know what I’m talking about.
I used to enjoy riding horses and playing with my animals on that farm that I loved so much, or exploring the acres of woods my family owned, a place I called my own. My own place to adventure, my own place to discover the songs of the birds, and the words I put together to match their tunes. I had many hobbies and sports, even girl scouts- yeah, those annoying girls who go door to door to give out cookies, but yet, your happy to see them because, seeing the joy they have when you pay them for even a single box.. it cheers you up and brightens your day, and you think.. I just made somebody happy.
When my parents seperated, everything was ripped from me. My favorite woods and my precious animals- my best friends. I lost the belief I used to have in myself, and I lost my confidence. I lost my personality, and generally myself. I lost my dad, who now I see every once and a while, I lost my mother who works so much and comes home late. My sisters lost a large part of their happiness, and grew up fast.. but I grew up faster. No longer am I awarded for doing a good job cleaning, because there’s nobody around to see what I did. No longer can I just run off and hide in a place where I can pretend nobody is around. No longer do I do sports or clubs, for I don’t have time.
But I grew up- and I focused. Now in high school.. I think, it could be worst. I could be homeless, I could never see either of my parents, I could be a lonely single child, I could be an abuser or the abused, I could live in poverty, I could be starved and dehydrated; but I’m not. No matter how bad I think things are.. they seem to get better.
I never believed anybody when they told me this.
“Everything will get better.. it just takes time.” They would say. And I would reply;
“When?”
And the would look at me, a helpless child, hoping for better things to come. The would look at me and feel bad for me, no matter how much I hated the looks they gave me, almost as if I could read their thoughts- their eyes like windows.
I lost my religion, a large portion of friends. I lost my honor roll student status, I lost the love for myself, and I lost the love and adoration that I had for my parents at all times.
I gained ugly self inflicted and emotional scars who mock me day and day again, a nasty cigarette habit, and rotten memories that I never want to live over again.

But I think; “Everything will get better..”
Then I think of the good things, the things to help me and my sisters survive the cruel world we were thrown into. I think.. at least their scars, and not open wounds; a habit can always be broken; and memories are like lessons and emotions. Memories teach you lessons, or cheer you up. Yeah, they can depress you.. then you think of the good times you had or still have, and yet.. your happy all over again. We’re all only human, and nobody is truly perfect; even the masks we so carefully build and create have flaws, because there is always the one person who can see through you and into your very soul; somebody who can read your thoughts. And through all those bad times.. everything will get better. It may be worst before, but somehow you will achieve what you want.. and everything will get better.
These words are for all the depressed, lonely, broken, lost souls out in the world, who are reading this and going;
“What ever happened to her that’s worst than anything that I’ve been through?”
That’s the thing.. there is always somebody out in the world.. who is worst of than you are, but at one point.. your going to be happy. There’s something in your life, that will make you happy; something to help you escape, or even some one.
When I was little, my mother used to tell me-
“Cassie, through life.. you will meet five people who will follow you to the moon and back.. five people you can completely trust with your life.”
Even after I’ve lost my religion, I still believe in angels, and I’ve found them. Everyday, they whisper in my ear;
“Everything will get better.”