Author's Note: This was the start of the assignment that we had last week from class. I got a picture of an outside patio, furnished with expensive objects and expensive decor. Transitions are a bit shaky and I'd love suggestions on how to improve them. Keep in mind I am writing and first person, whereas third person is my 'norm' so it's not my strongest work.

I sat there. Nothing exciting was happening. Nothing's ever exciting in this part of town, especially at night. Somewhere behind me, I could hear those damn seagulls squawk. They'll squawk just about anything. After a while, you just wanted to bend over, grab a rock and chuck it in their general direction. Though it would probably only cause a stir in the birds, making them to squawk all the more, (and naturally with no real success) at least it would alleviate a bit of stress that their 'playful' song brought.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I looked out at the open ocean. It was a bit difficult to see clearly considering the artificial lights dangling from the plastic plants draped around the boarder of the ceiling. I could have sworn I heard my name. Who knows, people are always coming and going as they please. I would tell you: "Yes, friends come and go all the time…" but, in reality, I don't know if anyone could call them friends. I think I need to clear things up a little for you. My parents have money…and lots of it. Those whom my parents would call my "friends" are in fact clingers. We all know the type. They cling onto you until you have nothing left to offer. Once they've sucked you dry, they drop you like the bag of sand they think you are. Ironically on the beach, once they drop you, you are instantly blended in with the rest of the people they guiltlessly lost interest in. But wait! The punishment is not yet complete. There are the rare occasions where they crawl back to you again, but this time you will not go back into their now empty bag (so to speak) before getting used far more then you ever wished. This usually leads to personality loss. After a while, you can't figure out what happened to yourself because you began the vicious cycle all over again to keep your head above the water. I think that's what happened to my parents. When I was little, my mother was my hero. Yeah, so much for that. Somewhere along the way, my parents got lost in the shuffle.

Currently, if you have not guessed it, I am on our backyard patio. We….well, I live on a private beach with more land then really needed. As I'm sure you've been able to guess, my parents are never here, leaving me to do whatever I please. I don't mid, really. I have a lot of time to do my reading and thinking. The patio is my place to think, despite the over expensive furnishings here. When I come out here to sit, I usually end up sitting on the floor. It's the only thing that's remotely normal. Aside from the fact that the floor is made from man-made stone that just-so-happens-to-be-perfectly-flat-to-make-it-seem-like-it's-real, it's not too bad. In fact, it is the only thing that I would keep in the room. It definitely beats the expensive, colorful pillows they put out here.