I am sitting and reading a novel. I started in reading this novel two days ago. It is about a girl who has to take care of a paralyzed man. He is treating her badly. She is a chatty person. I would hate her as well. I don't even believe in love. Love isn't really my thing. I think that everyone was so sad and they invented love so they can be happy. Together. I used to love my dad and my mom. But, now I don't really love anything or anyone. I feel like it makes no difference if I loved something or someone. They will eventually leave me alone. I used to hate being alone but now I really like being on my own. With my books. In my own mind, my happy place. Except the fact that I am never happy. All I do is cry and sleep and work. Even food doesn't matter. It feels like I can't taste it anymore. I check my watch on my wrist. It is already time to leave. I gather my phone and the book I was reading and head to the stuff room. I put my phone along with the book into my hand bag. I pull on my coat. "Good bye, Coraline!" I hear Mr. Banes on my way out. He's the owner of this bookstore. He's a 55 year old man. He's living in a house by the sea, with his wife. He always talks about how happy they are. How she convinced him to open a bookstore because she adores books. They have two married kids. They are both boys. No one really knows my story. I am not a talker. I don't usually talk about myself. I hate talking about my life. I think it is miserable. A girl with a dead father and a depressed mother. Think about. So sad. I don't like to feel pity from the people so I don't usually talk about myself. I think my life is the only book I wouldn't love. I walk into the cold street. I walk to the metro station. I take the metro back to my house.

I arrive at the building. I enter the building with a sight. I walk to get the elevator. As I am waiting for the elevator to arrive, the boy from this morning stops next me. "Oh, hey. Coraline, right?" He says with a smile. He has a happy smile. He reminds me of a guy I once read about. He was a very happy man. I look at him. "Yeah." I say. I never liked my voice. I think it's not a girl's voice. It is too grumpy. "I am Charlie Johns." He says as he offers me a hand. That's his mother? But, Miss Johns has three kids. Two girls and one guy. "Nice to meet you." I say quietly as we shake hands. The elevator arrives with Trance. A 5 years old boy. He is living with his parents. He runs out of the elevator. We walk into the empty elevator together. Again. "Are you Miss Johns's son?" I ask. I really wanna know. He doesn't look like the guy Miss Johns showed me. Plus, this guy is married? He looks too young. "Oh no, no. I am her grandson." He says. Well, that's right. "You're here alone?" He asks. I hate those kind of questions. The questions that has to be answered about me. About my life. "Yeah." I say. I am not looking at him. I am looking at the floor. The elevator's door open at last before he could ask anything else. I walk out to my apartment's door. "See you around Coraline." He says with a smile. I smile at him and get into my apartment. I don't usually smile to people. But, if someone smiles to you, you have to smile back even if you don't want to. I take off my coat and hang it on the hanger that's standing by the door. I walk to the room. I take off the heels. I unbutton my shirt and take it off. I lay in bed. I don't like thinking. Cause whenever I think, I cry. I just get back up. I walk to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator. I grab the noodles that were leftovers from yesterday. I put them into a bowl. I place them into the microwave. I wait by the microwave for a minute. After it peeps, as a sign that my food is hot enough. I take it out and grab a fork. I place them on the counter. I go to my room. I pull on a dark red sweater. I walk back to the counter and take my plate to the balcony. The ocean's cold air hits my face. I watch the cars as they drive through Miami's roads. Some going to the beach and others coming back. I eat as I breath the ocean's pure air.

I am sitting in front of my laptop. I am writing whatever I did today. I read that writing your daily tasks is good for your mental and emotional health. I don't take any pills. I don't think they actually do anything. They just make you believe that if you take them, you'll eventually get better. My mother keeps on calling from time to time. I hear here voicemails. She tells me that I should come home. That she's getting better. She might be getting better, but, I am not. I can't bear to live in a place whenever I look I remember a memory about my dead father. She sometimes cries. Some people might call me cruel for leaving my mother in this state. But, I think that we both need time. Time to heal. She might be taking shorter time than I am. But, I am sure that I might never heal from this. There are some things in life you can never heal from. No matter how long you try.