This didn’t matter though. I was going through with it. My day was planed. I was supposed to go to my crappy paying job but I didn’t, I went to all of the places that had ever brought me joy in California. I went to a museum. I appreciated the past that I had missed, and the beauty that came with the most simple of exhibits. None of it brought me joy. I saw people though, happy people, with dreams and hopes. People who knew who they were. I was still clueless. It wasn’t my parents fault, they were the best family someone could wish for, I swear. They were my only family. Now I was alone in the world. I saw brave faces pass me by every moment, not one of them saw the dead girl walking. I saw a little girl and her mom, hand in hand. It was a beautiful and blissful scene. They where having bonding time amongst the remnants of old civilization. The little girl saw something in me though, somehow. She looked at me with these knowing eyes, understanding far too much for someone so young. She stopped in her tracks and her mom glanced my way, checking what her daughter was so interested in. The mom then pulled the little girl away, lecturing her about how rude it is to stare. This brought me back to a similar day I had with my parents at that age. It was beautiful. The sun was shining and we were a true family. We enjoyed the museum, then went for lunch, and back to the museum. This memory didn’t change anything; it just made me hurt more. I couldn’t think about my parents without thinking about how they’re gone. With this I started to feel as if I was choking. I had to get out of the museum immediately. I stepped outside and I could breathe again, just a little. The clouds had only gotten darker. Already I didn’t have much left to do with myself.
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