I was told once I would end up alone. What an evil thing to say to a child. Yes, indeed I was, yet that mouth knew more than the child in front of its eyes, and the more I grow up the more I realise the truth of those words. Because it only gets worse. And worse. And if I knew the sufferings of the ones that live each day near me I would be in tears. How much they do not say, how much they manage to pretend they've forgotten, how I always get away. Family. I used to think of myself as a very loyal family member willing to do what it takes. Lie. I do not care. Maybe I am the worst of them. Maybe we're all cruel and I am the worst. You know, if you thought a little more about what you say you would be less cruel. You know, if people said to you the things you say to them you wouldn't like it, and you would see them a whole different way. 

If I just cared to look a little closer, if I just paid a little attention... I would notice the pattern. Stop playing the martir.

It won't be glorious nor poetic nor cool. It won't have castle walls nor crows nor long dresses. It will be lonely, and sad, and quite.