First Person Point of View
Life always has its ups and its downs; when it seems that you're at the top you realize that, like a wave, in a matter of seconds you crash with one wrong step. It's confusing and hard most of the time, second guessing your every step, but no one ever said this was going to be easy. No one ever prepares you for what's to come or how to deal with things; they just teach you the basics and let you live your life the way you choose it to be. 'You have a choice, Cam.' they always told me, but in truth, it was never really was my choice. It had never been up to me. When my parents died, was it really my choice? When they sent me and my brother to an orphanage because there was no one else, was it really my choice? When a family chose only him and forced us to be separated, was that really my choice? No, nothing was what I wanted it to be. I was miserable and alone with no one to care for me. When couples came in, they wanted the younger, cuter kids than the older ones so it was hard to find a family for me. Then after the hundredth family came and went, I finally made my own decision; I was running away.
No one stopped me, even when I told my roommate about my plans she just nodded and kept reading her book. She probably didn't take me seriously, I was only fourteen anyways, but I sure showed her. Even though, someone should've stopped me or at least told me to rethink my actions, because my one decision turned my life into a living hell. It was worse than the stuffy, old orphanage with the children crying and the teenagers bickering. They all had what they needed and sometimes got what they wanted, but out here it was survival.
Some days I didn't have food and others I merely got a slice of bread. My clothes were worn and my body weak not allowing it to make the necessary amount of body heat on cold, windy nights when the temperature was colder than what I could handle. Everything had just gone horribly wrong. I didn't know how much longer I could deal with my life anymore, but I knew I had to keep going. Something was going to change; I just had to wait so I did. I waited for three long years and still went on. Every brutal summer and killing winter I told myself that this year was going to change my life and make it into something besides savaging for food and sleeping in the bushes, but there was only so much a girl could take. My body started to shut down and as I lay there on the side walk, people passing me by not giving a care in the world, I knew that my waiting had come to an end.
My breathing slowed and my eyes felt heavy; it was the end of the line. The sun beating down on me laughed in my misery as the birds sang my funeral song until finally I closed my eyes. I thought I died.