The first thing remembered was the Looking Glass... Mother always said that if you looked through it, you could see a world that was free from all the cares and troubles in the one that you lived in, for in the Looking Glass, you controlled what you saw... But the Looking Glass never saved me. How could it when all it embodied was a false dream?
What I saw when I looked through the Looking Glass... was the exact same thing that I viewed without it. Mother was still depressed. Father was still a drunk. People were still dying. The only thing that seemed to make a bit of difference was the fact that I saw myself when I peered through the Glass, something I never saw when I was witnessing the world. It didn't really matter though. I was small, insignificant, not even enough to stop the cruelness that was ripping the family apart piece by piece.
Who was I? What could I do in the world? I was the cause of all of the pain. I had to be. Mother and Father were always happy - that is, until I came along. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it wasn't my fault. That doesn't mean that someone shouldn't take the blame, and since I'm the only one left, it is my weight to bear.
One of my earliest memories was of darkness. Complete darkness. I was in the room with Mother, while Father threw around glass bottles from out in the kitchen, breaking the windows, crushing china, and everything else that had been important, or at least what once was important, to us. Mother was curled up in her ball, hidden in the darkest corner of the room, rocking, her heart-wrenching cries lifting up into the night air. And every time she cried, my soul would shatter. I hugged her, I told jokes, I laughed, and eventually, I couldn't anymore... I cried.
Then, we both became creatures of sorrow - the type that fills you so full of pain and hatred that it never lets go... The type of sorrow I still carry... The type of sorrow I shall carry for the remainder of my days.