Status: Hope you enjoy as I've worked really hard on this! :))
Shattered Dreams
Maya
A wise man once told me “A life without fulfilment is a life not worth living”, well between you and me I really don’t think that great advice to give to a twelve year old girl. Who is ultimately an unfortunate orphan, who obviously wasn’t loved enough by her unknown parents to therefore be abandoned on the cracked footsteps of an old, shabby excuse of an orphanage? With a piece of ripped up paper with her apparent name Maya Annalise Amelia Sophia Stones on it stuck with hooligans and delinquents for the rest of her life.
To tell you the truth that man was extremely lucky I didn’t go all karate master on him like I do with the most increasingly populated cunning species in the world... spiders. I know what you’re thinking how do you get rid of these kinds of creatures? You don’t...you’re supposed to run and scream round and round and round in circles thinking how did it come to this and imagine one of those cowboys’ movies where you are in a showdown with the spider but somehow get killed by shooting yourself because you tripped on your shoelace, which you consequently haven’t learnt how to do yet. Ok I admit I am going kind of topic here but really stupid topics like this are the only thing that’s keeping me sane or maybe hypothetically speaking I am crazy stuck in a creepy, isolated asylum in the middle of nowhere that oddly enough looks exactly like a run-down orphanage. No that can’t be it I’ve been tested by my teach (yeah that’s what I call my teacher...Teach) literally I’ve actually been tested to see if l have a mental issue but then came out victorious when the expected news came out and then I shot glances at my teach who did not come out as triumphant not that it’s something I should be proud about, consequently the only solution of me being like this is that I’m just plain stupid- even though my IQ level is above the charts. Never the less I can proudly say I would have rocked the asylum strait -jackets if I was seen in them and my theme tune if I strutted down on a catwalk showing my beauty and talent would be a corresponding of the world wide community of models and designers ohhhing ‘s and ahhhing’s tunelessly.
Now do you see what being here has done to me, now I am hallucinating about me being crazy not knowing I’m crazy – if that makes sense and I’m trying to sing a song that doesn’t even exist? Everyday I’m forced to sit in a corner cowering in misery in my crowed room stuck with a snivelling kid crying its eye’s out calling for its mother that’s not going to come (could things get any worse). The only thing I can have a proper conservation is sadly my damp covered walls painted cadmium, yellow as if it will physiologically have an impact on my brain making me undoubtedly happy which otherwise is impossible and to my further dismay it’s also hideously matched with salmon, pink curtains with floral prints across it in rows. This whole room painstakingly give’s off the odour depression and guess that the main source was not so surprisingly me...
The one thing us orphans desire from the bottom of our hearts is to be cherished. I wish I had someone that I could talk to and let them be my centre - my sunshine - in this forlorn world. You wonder is that so much to ask for, as most kids my age want the latest things out. However it’s to be expected in life it wasn’t like I really stood a chance to get out of this desolated dump and make something of myself. People like me don’t have a chance in life there’s no hope that lightly perches in my soul and takes off except the differentiation is its stays their reminding me of what opportunities I can’t have. I can’t touch the sky and soar like a free hummingbird and let my wings of colour rise above the head of injustice just as the wind passes me by encasing me in the revel of freedom, that’s one of the things that I’m not going to live to see the day.
It is confirmed I can hear your heart is breaking hearing me being so negative and sharing with you my sob story. But in my defence I’ve always preached about expecting the worst and that you’ll then never be have to surprised (I sincerely hate surprises and yes there’s a story behind that I embarrassingly can’t tell you), not that it’s always worked out for me...you probably haven’t heard about the shower incident and you probably shouldn’t (yes I lied it’s a story too good not to tell).
Seriously tell me on a scale of minus one to ten who ever would expect the shower cubicle would be slathered with strawberry jam which is extremely slippery and then the poor victim of this attack would preposterously hit their head. Which could have led to a concussion – I’m not really sure if I did have one excluding the fact I felt very dizzy and subsequently had no memory from that point on however due to that awful experience I got my revenge on the little pranksters in some pretty hilarious ways (that I sadly cannot indulge you in or take any credit for). Fine...fine I will humbly admit I do have some amazing qualities for example I’m funny, cool, eccentric (even a little crazy) plus I got an eidetic memory that means I recall every event that has happened to me or to anyone in my company and when I mean everything...I mean everything - which is pretty cool even if I say so...
But the best quality of them all is my modesty that you yourself have witnessed. But even with all this awesomeness my whole life is meaningless sure I study to get an education and to then get a job so that I actually make something of my life. But I will still have no real friends simultaneously so at the end of the day I will inevitably be alone, so I wonder will it all be worth it that’s the question.
I immediately snapped out of my foolish rambles of how unfair life is and cocked my head slightly letting strands of my platinum blonde hair loosen up around my shoulders and an amused expression flitted across my face. When I heard the matron, Miss. Ivanovich aka Sarge (you are probably wondering why I call her that but you’ll shortly find out why so no spoilers alert) bellow out in a deep Ukrainian accent “Maya Stones come down right this instance”. I of course being such a loyal servant had to oblige and so I automatically smoothed out my hair just in case...oh what I am on about when she inspects me so that my appearance is at least satisfactory when in my books I look like a poster girl for a girl from an elitist family.
To tell you the truth that man was extremely lucky I didn’t go all karate master on him like I do with the most increasingly populated cunning species in the world... spiders. I know what you’re thinking how do you get rid of these kinds of creatures? You don’t...you’re supposed to run and scream round and round and round in circles thinking how did it come to this and imagine one of those cowboys’ movies where you are in a showdown with the spider but somehow get killed by shooting yourself because you tripped on your shoelace, which you consequently haven’t learnt how to do yet. Ok I admit I am going kind of topic here but really stupid topics like this are the only thing that’s keeping me sane or maybe hypothetically speaking I am crazy stuck in a creepy, isolated asylum in the middle of nowhere that oddly enough looks exactly like a run-down orphanage. No that can’t be it I’ve been tested by my teach (yeah that’s what I call my teacher...Teach) literally I’ve actually been tested to see if l have a mental issue but then came out victorious when the expected news came out and then I shot glances at my teach who did not come out as triumphant not that it’s something I should be proud about, consequently the only solution of me being like this is that I’m just plain stupid- even though my IQ level is above the charts. Never the less I can proudly say I would have rocked the asylum strait -jackets if I was seen in them and my theme tune if I strutted down on a catwalk showing my beauty and talent would be a corresponding of the world wide community of models and designers ohhhing ‘s and ahhhing’s tunelessly.
Now do you see what being here has done to me, now I am hallucinating about me being crazy not knowing I’m crazy – if that makes sense and I’m trying to sing a song that doesn’t even exist? Everyday I’m forced to sit in a corner cowering in misery in my crowed room stuck with a snivelling kid crying its eye’s out calling for its mother that’s not going to come (could things get any worse). The only thing I can have a proper conservation is sadly my damp covered walls painted cadmium, yellow as if it will physiologically have an impact on my brain making me undoubtedly happy which otherwise is impossible and to my further dismay it’s also hideously matched with salmon, pink curtains with floral prints across it in rows. This whole room painstakingly give’s off the odour depression and guess that the main source was not so surprisingly me...
The one thing us orphans desire from the bottom of our hearts is to be cherished. I wish I had someone that I could talk to and let them be my centre - my sunshine - in this forlorn world. You wonder is that so much to ask for, as most kids my age want the latest things out. However it’s to be expected in life it wasn’t like I really stood a chance to get out of this desolated dump and make something of myself. People like me don’t have a chance in life there’s no hope that lightly perches in my soul and takes off except the differentiation is its stays their reminding me of what opportunities I can’t have. I can’t touch the sky and soar like a free hummingbird and let my wings of colour rise above the head of injustice just as the wind passes me by encasing me in the revel of freedom, that’s one of the things that I’m not going to live to see the day.
It is confirmed I can hear your heart is breaking hearing me being so negative and sharing with you my sob story. But in my defence I’ve always preached about expecting the worst and that you’ll then never be have to surprised (I sincerely hate surprises and yes there’s a story behind that I embarrassingly can’t tell you), not that it’s always worked out for me...you probably haven’t heard about the shower incident and you probably shouldn’t (yes I lied it’s a story too good not to tell).
Seriously tell me on a scale of minus one to ten who ever would expect the shower cubicle would be slathered with strawberry jam which is extremely slippery and then the poor victim of this attack would preposterously hit their head. Which could have led to a concussion – I’m not really sure if I did have one excluding the fact I felt very dizzy and subsequently had no memory from that point on however due to that awful experience I got my revenge on the little pranksters in some pretty hilarious ways (that I sadly cannot indulge you in or take any credit for). Fine...fine I will humbly admit I do have some amazing qualities for example I’m funny, cool, eccentric (even a little crazy) plus I got an eidetic memory that means I recall every event that has happened to me or to anyone in my company and when I mean everything...I mean everything - which is pretty cool even if I say so...
But the best quality of them all is my modesty that you yourself have witnessed. But even with all this awesomeness my whole life is meaningless sure I study to get an education and to then get a job so that I actually make something of my life. But I will still have no real friends simultaneously so at the end of the day I will inevitably be alone, so I wonder will it all be worth it that’s the question.
I immediately snapped out of my foolish rambles of how unfair life is and cocked my head slightly letting strands of my platinum blonde hair loosen up around my shoulders and an amused expression flitted across my face. When I heard the matron, Miss. Ivanovich aka Sarge (you are probably wondering why I call her that but you’ll shortly find out why so no spoilers alert) bellow out in a deep Ukrainian accent “Maya Stones come down right this instance”. I of course being such a loyal servant had to oblige and so I automatically smoothed out my hair just in case...oh what I am on about when she inspects me so that my appearance is at least satisfactory when in my books I look like a poster girl for a girl from an elitist family.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hopefully you enjoy it!