Being alone isn't what its cut out to be. I sat in the bunkroom staring around at all the boys who have been together for months, years. They are like family. I walk in here wishing I could have the same thing. But they don't know me. Family is something that I've always wanted. People who I can trust and always count on. I've never had my mother tell me that she says that she loves me. My father would always smile at me. Never saying a word about how much they care about me. I was sinking into a deep hole and all I needed was someone to care and help me out. But no one came.

I'm falling in my own mind. How many people can really say that they went up to a stranger on the street and that stranger helped her get a job and a place to stay? Maybe I was just lucky. Maybe this time I can be able to trust someone and actually feel.......loved. Love. What does that mean? I thought love meant that you care for someone and no matter what they do, you will always care for them. Well if thats true, then how come my parents don't love me. I would figure that if I was in my mother's stomache for nine months then maybe she would love me. I don't know.

The boys around here are way to kind to me. They always smile at me, and then some of them will come and talk to me and make sure I'm alright. How can they act like they care if they don't know me?

I want to be part of them. I want to have a family that cares. I want friends who will always be there for me to talk to me. I want people there who will stick up for me even if I betray them. But can I ever get that? No. Not yet. I have to earn their respect. And they have to earn my trust.