It's my fault. I let IT happen. I could have stopped IT. I could have done something, anything.
Going threw each day. Day after day. IT never leaves my mind. Do I talk about IT, no. Do I want to, no. Should I, yes. Could I, no. Lately the dreams are here. Around friends I forget about it, till I realize I forgot. Then I remember. I remember every second of IT. The time. The date. IT. In my mind, all day every day. IT lives in my mind,(like a cough you try to get away, you can get it away for a little while. But not forever.), IT will leave. But IT always comes back. Always. I never thought a single memory could effect someone like this does me. I figured I would forget. IT would leave my mind. Like IT never happened. But IT did, and I can't change that. I let it happen. I am paying the price. Day after day, I pay the price…
I wake up in a "puddle" of sweat. IT was in my dream, again.
I try to shake it off. I take a shower. Dry my hair. I walk to the sink, looked in the mirror.
That's me. The same me I was two weeks ago. Just me. Same hair color. Same eye color. Same height. Maybe a few pounds lighter from not eating. Same personality, no.
It's not my fault I think of my self this way. I didn't before. Now I do. It's all IT's fault. IT changed my perspective on things. On people. On me. I don't things are what they seem. I don't trust all people. I don't trust me.
I see a person: Don't get too close.
I see a house: What pain do the people in there feel.
I see me: Your not worth it.
I get my clothes on. Brush my teeth. Brush my hair. Skip make up, (like I have for the past two weeks). Leave. Get on bus. This Is my average school day. I do this every day. Over and over again. But I don't mind anymore.
At least the noise and gossip keeps my mind from IT. I don't know anyone on my bus. Not zip. The bus driver talks a lot. Thinks he is funny, but he's really not. My mom has better jokes than him. Had. People around me throw gum, paper, paper with gum inside. Cussing is every where. Do they think it's cool? It's just another word. Just like freak, crap, sheet. Those are words. They aren't offensive. And they don't make people mad. Plus they get the point across. Sometimes I think I, out of all people, am more mature than these monkey brains. And I'm only a freshman. What are they. Senior. Junior. Some sophomores. You don't see me jumping around like a cheetah in heat. You barely see me move at all.
Since IT happened, I haven't been very social. I don't talk to people I don't know. Wich is a lot of people. I have a good amount of friends. And a bunch of people who I talk to, used to talk to, that I hardly even know. Now I stick to my basic friends. Jaila. Sam. KeeKee and JayJay. Ashley. That's it. That's the crowd. Small, but entertaining. They know more about me than anyone else. But they don't even know about IT. No one does. Nope, no one at all. Except him.