Adopted

I woke up in a hospitel bed a very annoying beeping sound next to me. I knew she was dead so when the docter came in and told me my sister was dead, I gave him a black eye and a busted lip to match. I felt the urge to cry, but pushed it aside. Crying was a sighn of weakness, and all weakness did was get you hurt. I still to this day have not allowed myself to cry one singel tear over my sisters tragic end.

But that was a year ago. Now i'm stuck in so crappy little orphange with a bunch of snot nosed brats. Mommy this daddy that that's all I hear them talk about. But the sad thing is they still have hope, that one day someone will walk through the dorr and give a damn about them. I gave up on all that hope that one day things would get better, the day my sister died.

I don't get why God likes to fuck with people the way he dose, it sometimes seems as though our lives aren't run by God but Saten. I don't get the point in life any more. But I am to much of a chiken to commit suicide. Mabey some day I will get the balls to do so. But until then im stuck here. My name is Blakie Peterson and welcome to my life, or as I like to call it my own personal hell.