Every teacher knows her. Every counselor hates her. People say she's odd. She doesn't talk. She doesn't smile. She's sick a lot. She hates the school. She knows no one understands.

She tells them all her problems, dreams and reality. She feels as though this, life, is all one big dream. Her mother questions this truth, she thinks her daughter's faking it.

They put her on pills, the make her tired and make the dreams worse. She always wants to sleep, in her dreams there's a man who loves her.

She dreams of her teachers dying, everyone in fact. She's scared to go to sleep, afraid of the nightmares to come.

She knows to get the help she needs she'll have to show them she's serious. So she does.

Her friend once told her, "Down the road not across the street", she takes this to mind as she grabs her scissors.

They put her in a hospital, here she doesn't eat for days. All they do is give her more pills and she sits alone in her bedroom.

When she leaves everyone treats her nicely, watching her every move. She has no desire to do it again, they know she's really sick now.

But things go back to the way it was before.

She emails a poetry writer, who writes beautifully.

The pills don't help, she often will only eat one meal, as they make her stomach hurt.

She curses the world, wishing she had never been born.

Her dreams feel so real. In there she can really live.

She's made a new friend today. Who said she feels the same. They want to help each other.

She's very possessive, guarding her friends from others. Deep down she knows this is because she wants to be loved, and she doesn't want them to leave her.

She says she has no future, she plans to stay home the rest of her life.

In truth she's too tired to care, and too spoiled to do labor work.

That girl is me.