Happy Birthday...

Ayah.

Yeah. I haven't updated for a while. A long while. I have no good reason why I haven't. Just because.

@!@!@!@!@!@!

It was a hot Monday night, hiding under the table with her small unknown sketch pad, she feels like she's in a heater. The heat's getting to her as she tries to draw a potrait of a person; making each mistake exagerated and soon she's nearly torn her sketch pad into half with frustration.

Cluttered attempts surround her and soon she's ready to explode; she's never been well known for her patience with herself. Crawling out of her hiding place, that she really is getting to long for, she's muttering to herself about the idiocy of her hand.

She's in the living room. Alone.

She knows she should go to the Tv room where the rest of her immediate family was; loitering and talking. Yet she felt a need to be alone.

So she remained.

She decides to sit on the long couch, relaxing her muscles after a tiring day at school. She hears loud voices, ringing pass through the thin glass sliding door seperating her from her family. Just like anyother day in her grandmother's house it's rowdy, noisy and nearly impossible for peace and quiet, something she craved.

Hours pass by and she gets thirsty. Dragging her legs to the kitchen to get a glass of water, she passes a scene that happened every other time. Seeing him sitting there, with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, she marches off to him and sits by sipping in the plain water.

The water trickles down her gullet as smoke travels his trachea.

Scathingly, she says smoking is bad for health. That it could lead to death.

He nods knowingly and takes a puff anyway while rubbing his stubble.

Frustrated by being ignored for what felt the hundredth time, she frowns and is ready to get up. It's always like this.He smokes, she reprimands, he shrugs it off. Always been, always is, always will.

Until he spoke.

He says the three words that she seldom hears, and though they were short and gruff, they were a shock. She's shaken and eyeing him wierdly, and instead of answering back she just nods and walks away.

"I love you."

She'd never know, she'd come to regret that for the rest of her life.

The next thing she knows it's thursday night, she's in a speeding vehicle and she doesn't care.
The next thing she knows she's clutching her cousin to stop him from screaming.
The next thing she knows she's desperately pulling on her mask.
The next thing she knows she's holding in tears.
The next thing she knows her heart's broken.

But most of all
The next thing she knows, she regrets not saying "I love you" back to her uncle.