So what if I was to say that all of this was a dream. All this pretending and lying, this smile that gets larger the more depressed I get that people think I'm sad when I'm actually happy, all of these feelings and body expressions that have been put in reverse, these scars and open wounds on my skin, those insults and teasing the group has put me through, this idea of leaving, this need to leave, this time when I was actually genuinely happy and sad because my mom was here and I haven't seen her in forever and the group was giving me looks that I'm not able to discern what they give off or what they mean.

What if this was all a dream.

Well let me tell you, it wouldn't be a dream it would be a nightmare and after all this pain I've been put through and still going through would've woken me up maybe it's because I didn't die that I never woke up.

But I can't be sure because I don't know, I can never be sure that this is one. Everyone tends to have a mindset that if they are in a dream or nightmare that if they get close enough to dying or die then they will be free but how can they put so much trust in a world that hurt them so much, they are giving this world the trust that this is actually a bad nightmare and that they will wake up, they are trusting that there isn't a world worse than this one possibly even one where you never recover or have the chance to recover. I refuse to give this world my trust, I'll give my self the pain the feeling of that blade sliding against my skin creating a great feeling of friction and blood rolling off the round curve of my skin, but never shall I go far enough never shall I let this world get more than it needs I've gotta keep a strong hold.

Hopefully I will find that out of here, that includes making the choice to take these memories and live with them and take the worse ones as a lesson and try to learn or leave it all behind which would either leave me to suffer from trying to forget or not improve me at all.

It's not like I'm having this new revelation, figuring all of this out its just that this is the first time I'm actually taking this all in, I haven't even left yet just this feeling of warmth and comfort of my moms arms makes me think a little about all of this again of course.

It's not that easy to just change I know that but hey this thought I'm guessing is either a hopeless early thought that will get lost in the depressing thoughts or a new step, guess we will figure out when-

Yea it was definitely the first one, now that I'm sitting in this car with my mom all I wanna do is cry. Change has never been easy for me why did I think this was a good idea?

"Maka, honey are you okay?"

No do I look okay?

I shake my head a little, just for this second I don't wanna pretend as I am pulled back where I was a few minutes ago, in my moms tight embrace.

My mom pulled back and brushed through my pig tails with her fingers, untangling some tangles in it.

"Maka I know you may not wanna talk about why you wanted to leave or why you seem so broken right now and I won't make you say everything but could I at least have a hint?"

I don't know if I will regret this choosing of words or rather one word but out of everything I could say that popped into my head whenever she asked that question this seemed this best one.

"Fake"

It was all I said but I could see my mom take a breath, close her eyes, nod, and pat my shoulders with a sad smile.

She didn't say anything yet I could feel that she knew more about what was going on than I did which was hard to believe, but I felt like I got a load off my shoulders so I brushed these thoughts off my head because this ride to where I was going was the only time I could express what I needed to feel and my mom not say anything before we got there and a all to familiar actor visits and tapes a mask to my face again.

"We're here"

I look up at the two story house and sigh, look how ready I am, I am so ready that I left all of my happy supplies in the back trunk of deaths car... not literally.

I help my mom get all of my suitcases out of the back trunk, it wasn't much but it was more baggage than I wanted to bring.

The house was huge for only mom and me so I was wondering why she had all of this house all to herself and she simply answered me with "work" that response scard me.

Its almost like we are explaining our entire lives in one word, but I feel like saying those one words is harder than ever explaining a long paragraph of it.

The house had 5 bedrooms a kitchen and 3 bathrooms. Two of the bedrooms mom uses as a place for her work and the other one is just a room where you can do whatever. The first floor had a bright blue wallpaper with wooden flooring and a few pictures hanging up. The second floor was working a much darker vibe with dark purple wallpaper and dark brown carpet, no pictures hanging up.

I turned the corner where my bedroom was supposed to be and dropped my bags.

In front of me was a beautiful piano and it was so so similar to Soul's all I could think of was why? Why does he always find some way to taunt me physically or not.

"Maka? Are you okay?"

It was the third time she had asked me this.

"Yea I'm fine"

But never had I felt so terrible lying in front of a inanimate object.