I always hated being alone at this time of year.
My friends were always having their own festivities, whilst I was stuck with my Mother and Father, in this house, with only my laptop for companionship. Sadly, the internet was not working.
I pull open the disk drive and see if there's anything that I can watch whilst suffering in silence. 'Elf' and scratched copy of 'Drop Dead Fred'. Drop dead Fred it is then.
Being 14 and being stuck alone in this cramped excuse for a house was one bad thing about this time of year, the second was the fact that it was New Years Eve and I was alone once again.
I began to wonder whether I had any real friends, because I had posted on Facebook that I wasn't to be doing anything this New Years, and not one out of my 230 friends replied and asked me if I would like to join them in their celebrations.
Some friends they turned out to be.
So I switch on my dusty Ds lite and view which game I have in it. Brain training of all things. I shut it off and come back to my desk, and search for an internet connection, just my luck, which is nothing. I close the page and sigh, wishing that this New Year could possibly be slightly better than this year.
I keep thinking about a game I had recently completed, Professor Layton and Pandora's Box. I keep thinking about the man at the end, whom made the Pandora's Box. The animation drawing of him was one I found most attractive, with a devilish look, beautiful blonde/white hair, the perfect nose and the perfect chin, and most of all, the speculation that he was a vampire.
How I wish for a man like that, oh how I wish…
But I am only fourteen, hormonal and silly. Falling in love with something that will never happen is always an early sign of insanity, as my grandmother used to say. Oh how I wish for the companionship I had before Grandmother died. I was popular, peppy and always invited to sleepovers and birthday parties, even if I was not friends with the person. But when Grandmother died, I turned into a shell of my former self. I had turned dark, lonely and desolate. Mother made me go to counseling, but that did not work, instead I put on a cheesy grin and hoped no one would look through the cracks, and then not succeed at trying to help me resolve my depression. Only a man of my dreams and fantasies would be able to help me, for I was beyond help.
A cool chill runs down my spine as I put my grey ankle boots on and tuck the hem of my jeans into them. I grab a scarf, a coat and a pair of gloves. I grab a large rucksack also and stuff some Pj's in, along with a change out outfit. I fiddle about in my make-up draw and find a lighter and some match sticks. I pile in some paper and pens, a ten pound note and flash light. I pull a sleeping bag off the top of my wardrobe and a blanket from my bed. I turn my phone off and tuck it into my pocket, grab my hat and off I go, off to the home of the Masen's.