Crystals have always piqued my interest.
I always had time to stare at them, regardless of how they appeared or where they came from. Although it may appear strange, I enjoy them. weird, I am fond of them. They lived for decades being stomped, thrown, or grated but always seemed beautiful. They come in a variety of lattices, but they're all robust and durable.
My admiration of crystals was influenced by my parents.
"Mommy!" I cried as I watched them walk away wearing battling suits and wielding weapons that glowed even in daylight. "Daddy!!" I cried again and I saw how my dad looked back. He gave me a sad smile before walking past the thick mist and my parents both vanished. I do not even remember their faces. The only thing that I remember was the crystals that were with them.
That is the only memory I have of them.
I have been abandoned.
Despite that, I find myself waiting for them even though there is a thin chance of them coming back.
Despite that, my interest in crystals never faded.
In fact, my admiration of crystals led me to a life that I completely never expected.
My lifeless routine became a tragic story.
My normal life turned into an extraordinary one.