I never thought that losing everything would be so easy. To watch my existence in a friend's mind decay and me, feel happy about it. I grew up knowing that everything was my father's fault, never blaming myself. I made myself out to believe that I was the good person. But, lately been failing to make anyone believe me.1
Alot of writers like to compare their lives to a puzzle, saying that it's hard to find the pieces that fit. Thus making it impossible to bring their lives together. My life puzzle is an odd one. The lid of the box has thirty seven small pencil holes in it and five razor blade cuts. The three hundred piece puzzle is missing two hundred and ninety eight pieces. All I have left is two good parts of my life, and they don't even fit together. Hello, my name is Astrid and this story it a waste of your time. It is not meant to hold a life lesson and it will not have a happy ending.
Author notes
This story is true, Astrid is me.
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