Box Of Crayons|DISCONTINUED|Note Page:32

Preface

"We could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box."-Robert Fulghum

She slammed the magazine shut that she had been mindlessly browsing through for the past 15 minutes. She couldn't believe how much crap was written in it. She just didn't understand how people could actually take the information that was printed in it and follow it as if God himself had said it. There were things in there that just made her want to pull her hair out.

I mean how someone can believe everything that they see or read is beyond me. I mean come on use your brain people it's not hard. But I have to say one thing in that stupid magazine did actually catch my eye. It was that article about how colours make up a big part of our lives. It said that different colours have different meanings. They affect us in different ways. I don't really understand how that is relevant? It doesn't make any sense. I mean at least not to me. But then again I don't know what colour is. I have never seen it. My world isn't filled with colour. It's black and white. I'm like one of those crayons that nobody has a use for once it's broken. I'm only useful as along as I'm whole. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I was a crayon that everyone wanted to use. The crayon that made each picture just a little bit better. But I guess that's never going to happen. Why would it? I don't deserve it. I don't belong with the rest of the crayons in that box of 24. I'm the singled out one. I'm only used when there is no other option.

She paused as she felt a tear escape her eye as her emotions were getting the better of her. She didn't want to cry. She couldn't. She didn't have a right to do that considering what she did. In her world there was no room for emotions. It was a taboo thing. No one cared about anyone. You just did your job and left. After all that was her job. She was a h*****. She knew it wasn't a very admirable job but it was all she knew. She was 14 years old when she had been pushed into this. Her parents had passed away in a car crash when she was only 12. She was left abandoned. She had no where to go. No one to support her. She had been shunned by every door that she had knocked on. It wasn't until Myra Davis had entered her life and changed it. Myra had come into her life like a saving grace. She had taken her into her home as if she was her own sister. Myra was only 4 years older then her. She considered her like an older sister and she still did. She had saved her from the dreaded life of being on the streets. She gave her a roof over her head and thought her everything she knew today. Without her she probably wouldn't be alive today. And ever since then she had been with Myra.