It seemed like everything I knew was gone in the blink of an eye. I wake up to the sound of trucks passing by. This sound is much familiar to me now. I sit and wonder how long it will be before there is nothing left. When I stand up to walk downstairs, I feel dizzy, like the world is spinning all around me and, for a moment, I'm the only one standing still. Once I find my balance again, i slowly waltz over to the window and gaze outside.

Everything looks dead to me, all the trees, the birds, all the people who used to roam the streets with no where to go, all gone now. Nothing seems to remain but the memories from so long ago, when mother and father were still alive. I find myself thinking of them often, lately. But, I guess when you've gone through as much as I have, you think about a lot.

I get dressed slowly this morning, wishing I had something to do, or, even, somewhere to go. It's late December, and even the snow has ceased to exist, only ashes falling from above, now. I look at my calender, it's getting harder to keep track of the days. They all seem to run together, slowly getting longer as each moment is erased from me.

When I'm finally ready for the day that will soon be ahead of me, I walk to the kitchen. There are plates of food set on the table, one for each of the seven children. I sit down and start to eat, though i have absolutely no appetite for anything other than the glass of milk waiting for me.

As I pick up the glass, everyone comes down to breakfast. I live in a foster home. When my parents died, I had to move here. Seven other children live here, all orphans. Everyday seems pointless, but I've never really had something to live for anyways.

As I eat breakfast, i make small conversation with the other kids, little do they know it will be one of the last I have. I try to think what reasons I have to live. I have no friends, no family. Everything I love, everything I've always lived for, is gone. I'm alone. The people I am with now, they don't care, not really. They couldn't, they don't even know me.

The more I think about this, the more it makes me want it to be over. I walk slowly to my room now, opening the door quietly. I walk inside and sit on my bed. Slowly I move my nervous hand to my night table, reaching for the glass there upon. Suddenly the glass falls off the edge, and I attempt to catch it, but fail. As it hits my hands, it shatters, and I receive broken pieces of sharp glass in my wrists. I look down at my hands, blood drips slowly down my wrists. I walk over and lock my door. Preparing myself for the end of my hopeless journey.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I start crying, weeping so heavily. I feel as though I might faint.

"Amanda?" I hear, "Amanda, Are you okay?"

I weep harder and quickly choke out, "No."

I hear her attempt at opening my door, banging on it with all her strength, trying to rip it from it's hinges. I walk to my window, open it, and whisper, "goodbye."

"Amanda, open the door," I hear her scream at me.

"Don't bother!" I scream, then whisper softly, "It's over."