Step By Wicked Step.

The sky was shining brightly outside, with no sign of rain at all. The pillow on the marble floor, the wind breezing in circle following the motion of the fan overhead, I laid down on the floor, took the book of Step By Wicked Step and started reading it. Knowing that I should know what I am preparing, truth to be told, the story of Richard Harwick not only brought upon the stories of Claudia , Colin , Ralph , Pixie and Robbo. It brought out mine too. Though not as detailed as it should be. Heck, it's not even the story itself, it's of my opinions of my own life.

Where do I start?
"It's not a story." - Colin. I know, I know I am not wanted in the family. I bring nothing but trouble, grief, sadness, sense of worthless. Not a planned birth, not an accidental birth. What am I ? Nothing. The middle of both worlds. Seriously though, I try my best to make everyone happy. But when one person or one thing make everyone feeling disgruntled , all fingers are pointed at the youngest one. The one with no opinion, the castaway.

"But what of me? I wish my mother well. Of course I do. But does my happiness not matter? Do I count for less? Am I supposed to nod and smile, and be a brave lad for ever, while everything changes round me and everything I loved is different? No, not just different. I will say it... worse."
- Richard Clayton Harwick.

Not the best, but certainly the worst.
I did not expect a school novel such as this would have made such a big impact on me. Yet again, I'm taking a quote from the book, and yet again, from Colin.

"... And I'd pretend that he was there with me. And I could talk to him, just like before... I stayed awake for hours and hours and hours, talking to him, although he wasn't there."

Where was he? Wind the clock 17 years back, from then and now, I couldn't remember doing much things with him. Sure, I used to follow him to church almost every Sunday, and onto the golf club later on where I had the usual chicken rice or occasionally a plate of fish 'n' chips. Then I would go up to the recreational room and have a game or two for about 2 hours. You was in the room, yeah sure, but certainly not for me, you were there for the lady in charge of the room. You were there just for her. Only once a week would I see you, other days, you were either up on the third floor doing whatever business you've divulged yourself in. I don't even know my own father. I would often see a father-son activity going on , and I thought to
myself, "That's nice,"

As I've mentioned before, I am not a planned or an accidental child, hence, the age gap between my brothers and sister is somewhat large. I'm 17. The nearest I have to me is 23, next up is 28 & 29. Sure there are some relationships whose age gap are significantly huge, but in my situation, with a non-existence father , with all my brothers and sisters away from home, leaving me alone fighting my the ghost of my own, my anxiety, my insecurities, my fears and my problems. Maybe it's because of this that I have a sense of hatred for all human beings, prefer the company of animals instead.

I'm tired.
I'm exhausted.
I'm beat.
I'm sad.

"My mother still doesn't know
that I sleep so much
because I hate being conscious.

My father still don't know
I feel distant from him
all the time.

My brothers still doesn't know
that I am feeling useless
and I wish I could be more like them.

My sister still doesn't know
that I hate who I am
and I prefer much more of animals than people.

But I know these things
and they're slowly
but surely

killing me."
-Tumblr , albeit slight changes.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, I cry myself to bed.