Honestly, it’s never going to come back. What’s happened is done. The people I lost along the way couldn’t care less. Why should they? As if they remember who I am. As if Mama’s really looking over me. Dad said she is, but then again when does he see corruption? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. She never cared when she was here, so why would she care what I was doing now? Then there’s dad, oh dad. He’s too occupied with his books and his stories to hear what I have to say. So I thought I’d stoop to his level. Search for attention? Sure. I’m a human being, so don’t I deserve at least a little?  I can’t get my past back, ever. I can’t be a little kid again. He can never teach his little princess how to ride a bike or swim. Mom can never tuck me in; never give me the childhood I deserved. Neither of them can change the way they raised me. They can’t undo the screaming. They can’t take go through and redo all the things they’ve done. All the nightmares they’ve given me will never be undreamt. That scares me. I feel like I’m losing control of myself, of who I am. Who am I anyway? Wouldn’t you like to know.