I sit here now thinking of a story. Not a particularly wonderful story but one i can relate with. I write upon this paper at this moment to tell you this tale. A boy of the age of 5 didn't know it then but his parents had divorced and things would only go downhill from that point on.  The boy, 7 years later, had just finished his final soccer game on his twelfth birthday. He had gotten his first phone; it was a simple flip phone, but it worked and he was overjoyed. It was a small blip of hope in a giant sea of waiting despair. During a three month period just before then he had been forced to jump from hotel to hotel and even live in a rotten old camper. Later that year only a month or so before his thirteenth birthday his life had taken a sharp plummet and he was ready to end it all. He wrote on a paper just like the one i am using now, his mother discovered it and questioned him repeatedly. The end result was therapy for him and then later on a mental hospital named, "Brentwood." He was entered into the tweens unit which was for twelve, eleven and thirteen year olds. He was assigned a room on the right at the end of the bleak and almost colorless rooms.  He noticed a few things immediately such as the almost bare beds and the three inch thick glass across from the door. He tried not to think about the camera that was directly above him and watched him like a hawk watches its prey. The boy was given horrible tasting toothpaste and mouthwash that nearly burned the taste buds for dental hygiene. Each day had the same old rhythm. Breakfast, Schoolwork, Activities/Gym, Lunch, Therapy, and eventually, Lights out. During lights out they would be locked inside their rooms and the nurses told the kids they were to lay down even if unable to sleep. There were occasional therapists that spoke to him individually. This didnt help him at all but in fact made it worse because he felt they were belittling him. He got out finally after two weeks of this on his parents request. When he was released he was so relieved he nearly forgot all of his worries. Almost. He had recently grown close to his step-father and was now used to him living in the house. During an intense argument over a small thing he walked to his mothers room and knocked on the door. Hearing a large thump he opened it and was paralyzed at what he found. His stepdad was sitting upon his mother and strangling her. His step-father stood with a look of shame and anger on his face and his mother forced the man out of the house. He had trusted and accepted this man only to be betrayed and it angered him but panicked him all the same. The boy was currently fourteen and he had almost cried. But he didn't and he didn't know why at the time but now he does. In some aspects his life gets worse every day, every passing second but in others it has brightened up just a little. I know these things because he is me.