Dear God,
From the day I was born, my life was destined to fail. And the thing that sealed my fate, happened on the day that I was dragged unwillingly into existence. The death of my family. My parents, a brother, a sister. People who would have been there for me, who would have understood, who would have listened. Of course, if they had lived, my problems wouldn’t exist, and I wouldn’t be writing in the dark now, with only the light of a torch to guide me.
A dark light. Glistening blackness, as a light weight silently soared round the twisting, winding roads, hurtling at terrifying speeds, small beads of wet piercingly loud in the still night as they struck the clear glass. A perfect two-way mirror. I can see out, you can see in. but if you focus only on the glass, you see yourself. The car hit the corner wrong. Over steer and the car crashed the blistering sound echoed through the night. Witnesses screamed. Sirens squealed. Brakes finally screeching in agony as they reached the ruined family.
They say my mum only lived long enough after I was born from an emergency caesarean, to name me. Miranda after her, Barrett after my dad. I know very little about either of my parents and the little that I do know would fill know more than half a piece of A4 paper and tells me nothing about them or the lives that they lived. But I do know that I hold no resemblance to them. They were blond hair, blue eyes, tall, athletic and had developed figures, whereas I have dull brown hair and my once bright brown eyes are know clouded. As though my eyes are trying to protect me from the world. I’m tiny; the slightest breath of wind is enough to blow me away. My figure is that of a child, despite being 15, it seems a though my body decided to stay forever frozen at 10 years old. When I stopped living.
M.B