The screeching in my ear warns me of another day,
Constantly ringing, never ending.
I curl protectively, pushing thoughts from my mind,
"It can't be that day, not again," I wish.
It's not like I can stop thee seasons, argue withe God, skip today.
It never works, and people start to notice,
Notice how I'm never in on this date,
This date that chills me to my bones,
My bones thee freeze up, refusing to let me leave,
Leave the house is a crazy notion,
A notion that has haunted me for years,
The years on end of bullying and torment,
The torment that makes me a recluse,
The recluse I am on Friday 13th.

'Dear Diary,
That date has come again. I cannot move, as though a pile of rocks weigh me down.
Friday 13th January is finally here, and the corner of my room is my only sanctuary...'