Imagine a place filled with everything you´ve ever desired. Imagine a place where all the dreams you can think of, all the crazy dreams you´ve comed up with, will come true or eventually they are already. Imagine a place where hunger, sadness, disease and tears are not found on the national dictionary. And PERFECTION takes their place instead. Imagine a place made up with everything that makes you happy and makes your life enjoyable.

And now imagine the complete opposite of this place. Where everybody, every single person you hate (and hates you back) is there, and probably with double their strenght. Where everything that disgusts you,every nightmare you´ve ever had, every fear, every frustrating moment are tucked together in a nasty rubberball we call world. Not fun huh? Not fun at all.

Well this "wonderful" place is where i´ve lived in. or at least that´s how it used to seem back then.

When you live in a world where the oldest ones, biggest one, and strongest ones rule over the small and the weak, it is really easy to lie down, rest,and let them do the hard work. But when those older people leave you alone, defenseless, or to die if you´re not smart enough... You´ve got only one priority. You´ve got only one desire. To survive. And such an easy concept as surviving may not be as simple as it should...

The house (if you could call it a house)was a complete disaster. Its grassy yard ate the gravel path making it almost impossible for me to reach the door.

The windows were broken in pieces by ivy and roots desesperate to enter the house. And probably the only lunatics that would want to.
The roof was hidden in mapple tree leaves which looked too heavy the weak wooden structure. But at least the roof remained on place. At least it had a roof.

Yes it may sound kind of weird but I loved each and every part, each and every cubic centimeter of the so-called house. Yet I hated it. I hated what it had become. I hated that They left it to deteriorate till this state. As they did with me.

Who are They? I pictured them as a married couple of lizards. Both skinny,extremely tall and with a big fat nose that they used to mind other people´s buisness.
Margaret and Peter Johnson, (their names as boring as their personalities) were my parents. Well, they were my first adoptive family to be exact.
Such horrible people shouldn´t even deserve a name. That´s why I called them They.

Margaret, with her nosey voice and attitude, knew almost everything that was happening in owr town. If somebody took a shower, she probably knew it already. She figured out who would be marrying who even before the couple knew it themselves. And her job was to spread the word around. To make sure that every living soul knew that a couple that hadn´t even met yet would be marrying soon because she´d just decided.

Mr. Johnson (as he made sure I called him) barely ever spoke. But whenever he decided to do so it was or to criticize me, or to argue, or to say the stupidest statements you´ve ever heard, or to make my life miserable."Stop lazing around and "go bring me a beer bottle!" he´d always say, "Wall painting? When I adopted you, I had a lawyer or a doctor in mind. Not a good for nothing wall painter!"

They regretted my adoption the moment I touched their house. SHUT UP was what they called me. "Shut up and go outside!", "shut up and clean the dishes" shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!...

The most wonderful moment while I was living with them was when they ran away (and I know It´s the other way around in normal families). The reason why I´m not sure.
Maybe, and just maybe ´Aunt Margaret got mad when I used her makeup as color pencils. But that that wouldn't have happened if she had bought me proper ones. Maybe Mr. Johnson got furious when I crashed his motorcycle. But that wouldn´t have happened if he drove to the suppermarket himself instead of ordering me to do so. And maybe the police men´s visit because of my lack of driving license influenced their escape.

They flew out of the country. I can not remember exactly where (Not that I care though). But my days of freedom and happiness were brief, and a local foster home took me as they knew of my abandonment.

That´s when my house began to damage, fade and deteriorate. But it won´t anymore because now it´s mine. It´s MINE. and nothing or nobody will prevent me from having it.