<font color="purple">This is a direct copy-past from my PC blog, but I don't know if anyone reads that so I'm reposting it here.

At first, her story just popped into my head, and now as I try to think hard about those times, my memory is in a big fuzz. It's strange for me because I always have such vivid memories, and a little dispointing too- I want to remember.

In any case, here it is. I didn't think a trigger icon was necessary because there is nothing really explicit.

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I don’t know why her story popped into my head over the past day or so. But it did, and with this new insight on things that I didn’t have years ago, it makes things seem alot clearer.

When I was younger, about 12 or so, we had this next door neighbor (if you count the family that lives on the other side of your townhouse your nextdoor neighbor) her name was Skye. I don’t remember much of that little girl, except she was very cute, with her long blonde hair and pretty eyes, she liked to play with me and my “friends” at the time. She didn’t talk, but she was little, so I never thought anything of it.

anyways, after a while, the parents started getting into alot of fights. They would scream and scream at eachother. Probably hit eachother hit eachother too. When they got into fights, I started feeling sad and I’d just bounce a ball off of the garage door for hours…just sadly contemplating why people just couldn’t get along. Eventualy they moved, after abandoning their cat… which they kind of neglected all winter anyways (we adopted her but sadly she was hit by a car shortly afterwards) Months later, the police came to our door, saying if anyone here owned a white such-and-such kind of car. I didn’t know anybody, because I don’t know cars, and it didn’t ring a bell with my mom and step-dad either so they left. Funny, my step dad remembered a few minutes later that the car they were looking for belonged to Skye’s parents.

Strange to think really, that for such a long time we lived so close to those kinds of irresponsable parents, bad people really, but didn’t even know it. I guess tonight I’ll cry for Skye and hope that she will be okay.

I remember those days, so clearly I do. The thud of the ball against the ball, the ping it made on the ground as it bounced back to me in perfect rhythm, it wasn’t even my ball, but I was in a trance, humming little songs to myself, a trance so filled with sorrow, that I really didn’t even care. I felt like crying, maybe I did, I was never one for fighting.


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