This morning I waited outside of the baker’s shop opposite, hoping that someone would take pity on me and maybe, just maybe, give me some food but I guess it will just have to stay a hope. Sometimes I dream about food, laid out on a table with a loving family surrounding me and a blazing fire behind me. I get hallucinations where I can hear my mothers voice and I call out to her but, like always, there is no one there. I think I’m dying sometimes because the hallucinations become so frequent. They drive me insane but they are the only happiness I can find in each day -my mum’s voice.
Across the street now I can see a group of friends with warm duffle coats huddled up on a bench holding a cup of hot chocolate. One of them can see me but immediately turns away awkwardly. They all do that. I wish someone would just acknowledge me instead of pretending I’m not there. My hands are now turning blue as I write. I think I am going to die. Maybe I should die. The world may be a better place without me.
One of the girls is looking up towards the sky. She then holds out her hand and a small drop of snow lands on her fingertips. Normal kids would be laughing or smiling at the joy of snow and presents, but all I can think is- it’s going to be a long winter.
Written as a Year 8 school homework
HM. September 2015