It's scary in a way. That feeling you get when people are around you. Watching you. But not as scary as when you are alone. I'm always alone. Always scared. Made of glass. So fragile people are afraid to touch. That's what I tell myself anyways. The hugs my mother used to give me… nothing but a memory. She is a memory. Almost forgotten. Like one of those memories that you try to forget, but no matter how hard you try they are always there. In the back of your mind, gnawing at your sanity.
            They were never happy. But is anyone really? Happy I mean. My parents were never home. And when they were… I was hiding. Bottles flew, words said. Blame made evident. It always became my fault. Never theirs. Never my sisters. Always mine. No matter how much I hid they would find me… so I stopped hiding. I realized I wasn't glass… people weren't afraid to touch me. They all loved to touch me. Shatter my whole. My soul spilling out with the tears I wouldn't let anyone see. Yes. That was me. Just a doll. Rags.
                                 Nothing special.