So when I finally woke up I saw that I was lying in a clumsy hospital bed. I was literally clueless about what has happened and that is quiet obvious. They told me that it was my luck that I'm still alive. I was too young then and had believed that maybe I'm really a lucky fellow. But now! It really makes me giggle to even imagine how lucky I am. Don't you think I could have called myself lucky if I had died that very day with my parents? Instead, I'm alive. In good health. For what joy? No one knows.

But now, it's been two years and that sharp pang I used to feel whenever I remembered about that day has slowly subsided. All I feel now is a numb, cold sensation whenever the memory rushes through my mind. Basically, I don't feel anything at all. The way the memory comes back is really odd. Frustrating and irritating. They are like flashbacks. Sudden come backs. It makes you all the more sick and mentally tired. But what to do... I deal with it. Not that I have any kind of alternative. Trust me, if i had an opportunity to choose something which would take away my memories forever, I would have done anything to get it. Unfortunately,  there is no such thing available.

But I know I'm better. Far better than the first six months after the accident. I could barely sleep then and nightmares were an inevitable part of my long, long nights. Staying with my uncle, the only relative I have, was even more pathetic. His daughter was another heck of a girl with such a tremendously awesome nagging personality that everyday I used to wish to somehow get away from there. Everyday dramas, scoldings for no reason and tauntings... I was fed up. They treated me nothing better than a maid at their service.

But now those days are finally over. I think even they got tired of me because, how harsh may you be with me, I tongue will always remain sharp...the way it was...the way it is. I currently stay in a hostel and everyday after attending high school, I earn my living. Yeah, I work in an ice cream parlour. Being a sixteen year old that was possibly the best job I could find for myself. Whatever my parents have left me with are in the bank for sudden emergency uses, if ever any. I don't wanna use up my one and only resource. Well, don't pity me because sympathy is the one of the million things I hate. I know one thing. In this wide world, no one is actually yours. No one ever can be. Because, the more you trust, the more you get hurt. What assurity do you have that the person whom you trust so much will never backstab you? Will that person forever stick to you like a friend? A family? No. No one will. Wanna know a harsh truth? Nothing in this world lasts for ever. Absolutely nothing. And I am done expecting. It's the same theory isn't it? Expectations hurt.