I wake up I'm feeling tired, thoughts consistently going through my head; remember.. Don't forget to.. Am I going to.. Talk to the.. Do your.. tell them that… “BLEEP,BLEEP,BLEEP” My alarm clock went of and I knew I had to get up even though I knew that it would just be another day spoiled in the world of reality. I looked at my self in the mirror hoping that somehow through the night I had lost 3 kilos, but inevitably the harsh truth hit as I slowly let my stomach flop. I looked into the mirror. I saw the skeleton of what once was a happy face, a face all bright in colour. Now covered in the worries of a million thoughts, shadowed by a white sheet. I turned and slowly was doing all my toiletries. Brushing my teeth, washing my face and putting on the every day mask that I hope would hide the world from the unhappiness that was inside. I looked at the fridge contemplating weather I should eat breakfast that day. I decided that I would pass hoping that the lack of food would maybe fix the dreaded feeling of the mirror in the morning. The consistent disappointment of failure was jabbing my thoughts as I was remembering what had happened the day before. Whilst remembering the past, the future was making me think. Thinking what I hoped would or wouldn't happen today, weather I would fail again or maybe it would be one of those days that only happen once in a blue moon were the sun will come up to play and I'd have a good day! When I noticed that there was water falling from the sky, I grabbed my raincoat. I opened the front door and walked out, I got to my letterbox, looked inside, and took out an interesting envelope. The envelope was lined in black, I looked at it dreading to know what its contents was, what information it had in-store. Any right mind would be a bit worried about black because of the meaning of the colour, but if you were connected to a culture, the black ribbing would mean much more. Death. My hands shook with a worried mind as I slowly opened the letter - It read: Dear Kali It is with a heavy heart, and a sad mind, to inform you of the death of our dear Aunt Julia. She died peacefully in her sleep, it was a sudden and unfortunate event and we all feel sorrow for her passing. Yours Dear Sister, Jessica Narand I read this, and as I did a slight pain in my chest grew heavy and big, as a tear glided gently down my cheek, adding to the already wet paper. Aunt Julia had always helped me in my time of need, she had become like a second mother to Jessica and I, after our real mother and father died in a car crash. We were both always told that they died happy and peaceful, but this coated reality was broken two years after when I found an old newspaper. It described the accident in great depth, that they were caught underneath a truck; they were stuck there with major injuries, for about five hours as rescue teams tried to relief their pain a bit. I placed the letter into the inside pocket of my coat. I walked in a mournful march as the rain was jabbing on my back like a million swords. I strode on to a London footpath; I was walking down to my local newsagency hoping to fix the disappointment of being fired yesterday. I was fired from the job that I loved, because I did not suck up to the boss and I refused to sleep with him. I thought that it was a wise move to try and find a fair Job that would pay for the rent and food until I could find something better. As I was walking down the street, as a car came quickly around a sharp corner, one of its wheels skidded into a puddle, which drenched me from head to toe. I looked into a shop window where people witnessed and laughed at the event that made me look like a drowned rat. I payed no attention to them and strode down to the florescent sign saying “newsagency”