Reality. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Its not fair, not really, unless your pretty, popular, and cool, things don't often go your way, the saying goes, "Nobody's perfect," what exactly does that mean, does that mean that nobody's perfect on the inside or on the outside. When I go to school one day, I wonder, I always hope, as my English teacher goes on about the fabulous book were reading, and while I'm paying apt attention, I let my soul wander, fly to other places, wondering what it takes to have someone look at me for once, just to look at me, who I really am, not who people think or say I am.

I transferred schools because I was teased. The taunts and the raves, no one really knows, its one of my secretrs, one of my secrets deeply hidden inside my little black diary, the little black diary which no one had ever cared enough to open it and see the real me, hidden between piles of my novel and my book. Reality, its not fair. As I wake up for school the next day, day after day, Monday thourgh Friday, I find myself, hoping, wishing, yearning, for some one to actually say hi to me, want to get to know me better and maybe later understand my secrets, understand who the hell I am, instead of the odd girl, sitting on the seat of the court yard of the newly built gym, waiting for someone to discover me. Why is it, that everything has to be a certain person's way, people think I read for fun, and yeah, part of that's true, but its also a source of getting away from everything, a chance to go somewhere with out actually running away to the place I create inside my head, I ignore the questioning stairs that my peers send me, and I still just run straight forward. Everything in my life is confusing, everything is so screwed up. This paper, I'll print out, new and sheef will just be folded up and locked in my diary. I can never find a solitude, my own friends don't even now who I am. Just a happy go lucky girl that attends her dumb school, well their wrong, all of them. The assumptions and the rumors that traveled about the new girl when she came in the middle of sixth grade, when I was innocent, when I didn't even know what the hell love, or heck, even going out is, now I know what it is. I learned something else also, Reality. I watch as my crush I've had on for about over two and a half years looks at me, and I try to get his attention. He flirts with me, and we have friendly banters, but he doesn't exactly know me. If I ever let someone actually get to know me, I would let them read my diary, just to see how I really am, to get to know the real me, instead of the person that doesn't even know who she is.

I'm not perfect, never was, never will, but I do have faults, and I live with them. Each day I hope that maybe someone will come up to me, just totally randomly one day and say hi, or maybe someone will ask me out or say something sweet about me, but no, It will never happen, my dream world ceases to exist, due to the nasty word, Reality. I am a kid who didn't, or still doesn't even now what the difference between fantasy and reality is, just a thing I live with, what I hope and dream in, a place where no hurts me. It doesn't exist, does it, it just doesn't. Its not fair. Love, its not underrated, but its something that I have a kind of want for, what I don't know what it is yet, and I don't usually give it that easily, its more of soemthign like trust. I'm scared, I'll admit it, but, why is it that nobody cares enough to actually know that I exist, is that really something that hard? Just to say hi, or get an occasual smile from someone of the opposite sex? I guess it is.

So, reality is that hard, huh? Well, I say it now, I'm in love, with someone, someone who's real, not just a fragment of my imagination. I love you, Harry Potter