Yes...yet another story that I'm starting...I plan to finish this one though, cuz it's written in first person, and I'm getting really good at first person. Cloud van Dyk says so ^_^

She also gave me the idea to use a prologue...to kinda give the background.

Unstable

Prologue - No Emotion

'I feel nothing

No pain

No sorrow

Suffering or hurt

No happiness

No cheerfulness

Smiling or frowning

I have no emotion

I always hurt people

The ones I love

My friends

My family

My girlfriend

Everyone

I pick up a knife

I hold it up to the light

The brightness hurts my eyes

I lower it to my wrist

I start to think

"why do I do this?"

"Who am I hurting more?"

"Myself?"

"Or everyone else?" '

...

I closed my diary after finishing and signing my poem. It truely describes how I felt at the time.

I have no emotion. Nothing broke down my brick wall of emotion. Sadness. Fear. Love. Nothing even remotely came close to leaking through. When ever a hole developed, I'd peek through just long enough to see what had cause it. Then would work to patch it.

I've no reason to keep people out. In fact, I don't know why I keep my impenitrable wall from cumbling.

When I was younger I would play all the time. Be yelled at for needing a change of clothes every hour. I can't help but smile at those days. I had so much fun. Enjoying my days of carefree laughter. Spending hours playing baseball with neighborhood kids. But it all faded.

My life became a haze when my thirteenth year of exsistance came around. I sighed softly, remembering that day without flaw. The day that changed my life forever. The day...I lost my parents. I have scars on my chest and stomach from the accident.

It was nearly midnight, my parents and I were returning from my mother's company Christmas party. I was stretched out across the backseat, drifting in and out of sleep. My parents' conversation was soft, and scarse. I guess they had talked theirselves dry at the party. It helped me try to sleep.

It happened in what seemed a split second. My mother screamed. The car swirved. The impact was hard and sudden. The car hit the tree. I had already blacked out before it slid down the hill.

I woke up, what I was told, a week after the accident. My chest was throbbing. It took several minutes before my eyes focused on the clean bandages. I started crying, images of the wreck flooded my mind. I just wanted my mother then, at that second, but she wasn't around. That only made me cry more.

I'd never forget what the doctor told me. "Haruka. I've got some bad news honey." he had sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at me. I picked it up in his eyes that he was carefully picking his words. "The accident that you and your parents were involved in, a week ago...claimed their lives." I'll never forget that day. When I found out my parents died.

After I recovered from my injuries, they bounced me around from foster home to foster home. Nobody wanted a depressed teenager living with their perfect little families. Seven families came and went, before the eigth family decided to 'keep me' like I was some puppy who pissed all over the carpet all the time. That's what I felt like. And how some of the families treated me.

A middle-aged couple had taken me into their home. It was the eighth family. Their only child, a daughter, had already moved out, and was attending college now. They're very nice to me. They have been, since I was 15, when I first moved in with them. They almost remind me of my parents...Almost.

Ashame I can't be completely open with them. Ashame I can't tell them of my self inflicted wounds...