Memories are easily forgotten.Happiness is taken for granted.And those we swore to love-strangers.Those we always 'kept close', left behind.Everyone thinks that this would never happen, as if it was only a distant reality - unimaginable.
  I was no exception.
  It was the summer of 2013, every teen in the neighborhood was out partying every Friday night,getting drunk, crazy and loose, but I believed that I could experience that all in the safety of my room - closed out from the cruel outside world.
  I took out my laptop and moved my clicker down to the toolbar - where my best friend, Netflix was at. Yes, I am aware that sounds sad, but I had no other choice. Watching shows can't hurt you they way real people can. You might cry,maybe, but not enough to run out of tears.
  Like I already have.
  Just as I was about to click open the app, a distinct yet familiar sound could be heard from my right year. I turned sharply around and saw the screen of my phone lit up-It was Kal!
  Kal is the only friend I have, or so. I consider her that as she actually talks to me, despite me being a cold, blunt, introvert.What else did you expect?How would you feel if you knew that your parents died before you even met them.
  Or Just enough to remember.
  The worst part is, they were trying to save me. A unproductive, useless, waste of space - I knew I wasn't worth their lives. Important ones.
  "We wanted to protect you from the burden!"That's what my parents,no,adoptive parents, said when they told me the ice, hard truth.
  Burden.
  That was what they thought I would feel, like i was a burden. How did they know I wouldn't feel a tingling sense of pride for my parents, knowing that they were selfless enough to care.
  I entered my password into my phone and swiftly read Kal's text. "Hey, do you want to go to the cafe later? It's down the street."I stared in utter shock, zoned out: She wants to hang out? She wants me to leave my room? Going into the living room was already a challenge.How was I supposed to feel about this? People would stare at me in disgust, judging my every move,every imperfection and flaw. That's what I hated about society, it revolves around appearance. Once you're pretty and thin, you are respected unlike the other unfortunate souls. 
  I am one of those unfortunate souls.
  I felt the smooth plastic of my phone cover slip from my hand and onto my bed, jolting me out of my reverie, back into reality. Should I say yes? There would be no barrier protecting me from embarrassment if I did. My hand positioned themselves on the letters 'n' and 'o' as if on cue. I was ready to decline, but I didn't. 
  Was that a good idea? Maybe not. But I knew it was the doorway to a start in this thing people call life.I wanted to reintroduce myself to the world.
  I threw on some presentable clothes and typed: I'll be there. I walked with fear in my steps. Every muscle in my body wanted me to turn around, back into the safe zone. But my mind was in control as I continued to go to the front door.
  "Where are you going?" A judgmental, worried voice asked in pure confusion. I had to live with it all my life.
  My 'mother'.
  I took a deep breath and thought about the thing she would expect the least of me to say, "Having a life."
  "I thought you didn't want one." She replied. I was taken aback. She wanted me to continue with that lifestyle? I stared into her hazel eyes, she always said she loved me- was this love? 
  " So what do YOU want me to do? Didn't you say you loved me, CARED about me? Is this love? HUH? TELL ME! IS THIS LOVE?" I fumed.
  "Cassidy..." Her hand reached out but I shrugged it away. I don't want her empathy, her so-called love.
  Her lies.
  I want to run away from it, I would be free from her controlling eyes. I always asked the same question since she told me the truth: Where did the love go? Was it given away?
  I turned around and opened the door. " Cassidy! I'm trying to HELP! You're NOT ready yet!" My mother screamed. Not ready? I tuned her out. But her words lingered in my head: Help?
  How did she help? Helping me in my isolation plan, so as to encourage me from going out? That's not what a true mother would do.They know when to draw the line. She should have drawn that line 5 years ago, when this all started. 
  She was not the person I thought I learnt to love, or try to. Now, we know nothing of each other, except out names. But our words, might as well be non existent.
  We are strangers now, who would be the next?