the suicide hotline | ??

i wake up from the sun beaming into my blinds and i grab my phone for the hotline, which not to mention is going off so early.
i can't blame them though.

"hello this is your national suicide hotline, we're here to help." i say a bit groggily

"h-hi.." a very familiar soft voice stutters

who is this woman, why am i so overly concerned about her..

"oh it's you again?" i chuckle slightly

"y-yeah it's me." the young girl replies into my ear
~~~~

"to me parents are just labels, you have to call them that and respect them because of the label that they brought you into the world, but they treat you as if they never wanted you here in the first place. that mans not my father"

"...." i couldn't say anything, i couldn't think of anything but wonder who this poor girl is, and why the hell does she relate to me..

it's impossible for her to relate to me like this. i never knew somebody who has the same problem.

"well... uh. have you ever tried to stick up for yourself ?" i break the silence, because of how awkward i was acting.

this conversation could go on forever but she hung up, for some reason i didn't want to get off the phone with her, she's not a cold woman. She's a lost girl and a lost soul, and she needs someone to help her survive.

That someone is me.