As I thought about my life, I wandered how something could go from being so perfect to a complete disaster. Last night, I thought about the world surrounding me as a tragedy rather than a fairytale. It all began with an innocent kitchen fire, which turned into something bigger. Not only were all my belongings destroyed, but so was my future.
When I walked into the remains of where my house used to be, I noticed an unfamiliar, white teddy bear with a pink bow tie sitting in a pile of ashes. As I looked into its brown eyes, a feeling of fear overcome me. Something so simple had never had such an effect on my emotions before. After all I had been through, nothing scared me more than that simple children's toy.
My mother, who has short, brown hair, approached me with a look of anxiety. She told me that my father was in a serious depression. He lost his job, home, and was practically on the verge of losing his family. As sweet as my mom is, she can't handle being in a relationship with an alcoholic. To support our household, my mother, Anne, doubled her shifts at the Hard Rock Caffe downtown.
We got a hotel room to stay in temporarily, and when I layed down on the foreign bed something moved out of the corner of my alert eyes. That bear from the ashes sat promptly against my pillow covered in sut. My eyes began to widen as I let out an urgent weep.
After running out of the hotel and into a nearby book store, I met someone. He was an older man with dark hair and a tobogan. I was desperate for help so I told him everything that was happening to me without even realizing it. He claimed that he had heard of a similiar situation in his hometown. He had a long meaningful talk over coffee. It was almost like he had been friends all of our lives. Claiming he would help me through this, he recommended a book that might help. I would never tell my family of what is happening.
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