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PROLOGUE

Have clouds ever reminded you of cotton candy?

Because that is what goes through my mind as I look through the glass at the calm, beautiful blue that we call the sky. The white fluffy clouds look so delicate, and I smile, thinking of the delicious, sticky, sweet candy that I love - the candy I'd grown up eating...in the place that I'd grown up in.

And just like that, the smile fades. The place I’d grown up in... It echoes in my head.

I hug myself tighter and force the tears away. Leaning back into the seat, I look around the isle; Mum, daddy, and my little brother are sitting two rows behind me on the right side, while I’m on the left. The seat next to me is empty and the seat next to that is occupied by a man who I presume must be in his midfourties. I have the seat next to the window, and I couldn't be more thankful; it gives me a perfect view of the sky, nothing but a peaceful exapnse of blue that slowly begins to lull me to sleep... 

Ouch! I wake up wincing and squinting my eyes in pain. My head had crashed against the window while I was asleep. Rubbing my forehead, I sit up straight and pull the blanket around me even closer and stare out the window. It was night-time now, the clouds are invisible and I can't see stars. Why aren't there stars? I whine in my head. I really, really want to see some stars.

Maybe it’s a symbol, you know, like making it more obvious what my life is like now; just dark with no promising light. Perhaps you think I’m being dramatic, but I feel so...I don't know what I feel. I grew up for twelve years in Connecticut; I’d spent my entire childhood there. The place was rich with memories I wanted...needed to hold onto and here I am, seated in a plane, flying away from it all. I plug in my earphones and let all the sad, depressing songs play while staring out the window. Yes, I’m a masochist. 

I think about my cousins and remember the sleep-overs, outings and the game nights, I remember my first day in school there, I remember all the children in our neighbourhood being this huge group of friends and how we'd never get bored. I squeeze my eyes shut, but this time, I let the tears flow, and thankfully, the lights on the plane go dim. Nobody can see me crying then. And I want to cry because keeping it all in makes my throat hurt- like there’s a huge rock in it that is being scraped against my windpipe and it’s not a very pleasant feeling.

We had gone to my cousin’s house for one last sleepover, and they had thrown us a surprise farewell party. It made me want to cry but I couldn’t cry there. It’s not like they haven’t seen me cry. Of course they have; most of the time, they’re the reasons I cry so I guess I shouldn’t be missing them, but I can’t help but feel a little sad. They are family, after all. I didn’t have many friends in school, but it was the best school in Connecticut. Of course it was, mum would never settle for less- probably the reason why we’re travelling in business class right now.

Sometimes I wish we weren’t so wealthy, and right now is one of those times. Perhaps if daddy didn’t have all these business stuff to attend to, we wouldn’t have had to move here. I clench my fists in frustration and I feel this heaviness in my heart. That heaviness makes me uncomfortable always. It’s too thick, like a heavy blanket wrapped around my lungs yet it felt so empty. I don’t know how to describe it and I wish I could. Maybe if I knew how to tell what it exactly felt like, it might make me feel better; but I can’t because I don’t know how. And the more I think about home, the heavier it gets.

The tears are still streaming down my face and I bit my lower lip so as to not start sobbing, and I hug myself tight so that I don’t start shaking either. I bury my head in my arms and silently cry. I miss being that carefree kid in Connecticut; I miss the time when the fluffy cotton candy could wipe away my tears and make me feel better.  

Everyone was comforting mum, who obviously misses the place too. They’d been worried about my little brother because he had so many friends there and he’d loved the school so much. Everyone was sympathetic towards the both of them, wondering how they’re going to make it, if they’d be happy, yada yada. But no one cared about how it affected me. No one. I was holding it together- holding myself together- and trying so hard to be the strong person everyone expected me to be. But you know what sucks about being strong sometimes? Nobody cares to ask if you’re hurt. They think you’d survive it just like all the other times. They think you’re not that affected by anything; that you can deal with life as it comes along. Well, guess what? I’m a kid. I’m thirteen. I’m human, oh, and I have emotions too. Is nobody going to understand that? I mean, is this what my life’s going to be like? Me having to sacrifice the chance to let it all out so that other people can get rid of their burdens instead? It’s actually really very sad, you know, that even my parents don’t think to ask me if I’m okay. 

Thirteen years of my life, and I’ve had ups and downs. Somehow, people have never been there for me during the downs and yet I feel so troubled and disturbed if anyone of them is in crisis. How ironic.