I lurk on the outsides of the groups at school, waiting for someone to say hello to me. I wait for someone to have the courage to at least smile at me, invite me to a party, or something.
To them I am no more than an invisible shadow, someone that doesnt belong, that doesnt deserve to b in their presence. But what do they know? I am as good as a person as the people in those groups. I can make jokes and put makeup on right. But they ignore me, looking at me as though they are afraid to pick me out of the crowd. Afraid they will get pricked by the thorns of my past. To them I am a Mystic Rose.