I have Trust in you.

Knowing me that extra attention she gained would leave me extremely jealous; so I left to face my next biggest adventure. Next thing you know, my name is being waved throughout the sky with spotlights following me through the rain puddles. But please don't jump ahead; I'll get to that later in the story. So I picked up my luggage just outside the door, hopped into my lamest shoes, and set out to learn the whole world was mine if only my anxiety would let it be. I began to walk, further than I had anticipated for the given weather. The soles of my shoes were squeaking quite like the ugliest duckling you'll ever see. At least the ugly duckling gets a book written about her! The yellow in my teeth and the green left behind from oil stains, left a painful smirk against my face. Traffic whizzed past, as muddy water splashed onto fish decorations etched into my shoe.

The beggars with greed in their eyes and mystery in their pockets made an advance, and for the first time in years, I followed with a sigh of relief. As the copper change dropped into the paper cup, I could see the redemption in their eyes. One, Two, Three; the numbers of opportunities seemed to open up. That change might have been for Sunday liquor, but each person has their own agenda and makes their own rules. Being a daughter of misfortune I realized that possibly they wanted that copper for a change in recovery. This grungy man cleared his throat and grunted at my shoe. I gave him this eyebrow raise that wasn't meant to anger anybody, even though all my English teachers called it lethal. Good thing I don't need to make any friendships this morning. Or ever! Due to past history. So I ran, to get away from the fear of him following. I've always been mocked for being full of paranoia. Pretty soon the sweat is matching the rain with this rush of heat through my veins. Wet rain seemed to wash away the chalk from the daycare students drawing onto the neighboring sidewalk, as the children scurried inside due to the grumbles across the way.

I'd always walk by their window pane and admire the blossoming flowers growing around the place. The building was painted with bricks, and inspiring murals that hadn't faded for years. In the past year, graffiti has become exceedingly popular, and although it is mighty bright, the children's little handprints will never be the same. Sometimes I wonder what they do while cooped up inside afraid to leave the security of a locked door. Main roads in our area are not only populated, they have a strange glow to them that is freakishly appealing to those less fortunate. And yet walking around this neighborhood is mesmerizing. Such hope can lay in a trail of spilt coffee. Spilt coffee turns into such a story. One that can only be told by that certain special person. This also gets me to thinking of another interesting idea. What happens when people drop their milk money, or a dime that was for a parking meter? That is when I take a long walk down a crowded alley to find out that strength doesn't always lye in numbers.

See, I have this problem with my sister. She seems to get all the attention, and I am nothing but an outsider. She has the prettiest green eyes, or so I've been told. They flow so nicely with her long locks of brown hair. Her skin barely ever blemishes, and her smile is what the guys call beautiful. My own mother is obsessed with her grades, which truly suck to be honest. Even though she gets the line, "Oh honey we love how you try!" Mine are the equivalent of a typical high school nerd. The one who never got a date to homecoming, or voted best dressed. Looks can be deceiving, and for once in my life I know where I'll leave a mark. I had to leave my house for that reason, and since my super cool cat puked all over my lunch for tomorrow, Peanut butter and jelly will never be the same to me again. At least I didn't pack oatmeal also. That would have been my next visit to the sidewalk. I have been told time and time again that my sister will be forgotten once she gets older and into the real world. My best friend who is my mind that is talking to you right now told me it should make me feel better. Not really considering being selfish hasn't always been my strongest trait. Though arguing with myself can be time consuming, it also leads to long conversations in third person. The rain was always my getaway, along with writing. I'd go for mile long rides through the river banks, and alongside the sidewalks lining the corner stores. Until that one day, wet rain seemed to wash away the chalk from the daycare students as they were drawing onto the sidewalk. The children scurried inside due to the grumbles across the way. That is the moment I could tell something was seriously wrong.