I stared at the ceiling, about ninety-five percent awake. Days like this are common, but they're usually not this bad. In case you're wondering what I'm talking about, I don't want to go to school. Last night, I ended up going to sleep at eight o'clock because I was sad, and I slept through the night peacefully, hoping that I wouldn't be sad when I got up, but I am.
Days like this, I'm sick of being alone all the time. I'm sick of being walked all over. Days like this, I'm sick of being ignored. I try and I try hard to get people to like me and to talk to me but it's too hard. I turn on my side before sitting up, tears forming in the corner of my eyes. I don't want to go; I really don't want to go.
Making myself stand up, I walked towards the shower with my clothes in hand.
I cried into
