The cool air against my face.
I walk onto the bus in the morning.
I hadn’t realized how many people were really there.
Trying to find a seat. I can’t. I have to stand.
Walking into this place is like a maze.
All new faces. None of my friends around.
I’m alone to face this new place I already hate.
Everyday going back to this place is like a knife being dug deeper and deeper into my flesh.
I’m afraid I might not make it through the year.
Everyone is confident.
Everyone says it isn’t that bad.
Then why am I so miserable.
Why do I feel like every single day is like a year in hell.
Going home is even worse.
Too many exits. Too many doors.
I can’t find my way home.
Lost in a crowd of faces.
No one cares. No one understands.
So I’ll just keep everything bottled up and pray I make it through the year.