If you haven’t noticed by now I’m not particularly keen on school. I trudge through the seemingly endless days with cold eyes and a particularly blunt look…of everything.

People don’t come near me for fear of my sharp tongue or worse, the deafening silence I throw their way leaving them stuttering and stalling, trying to find their way out of the dark.

I spend my time with my earphones firmly rooted in my ears, pretending to listen to the dull and repeatitive voices of weary teachers or watching people live out their lives around me, dreaming up ideas of what their lives must be like and how they differ so much from me.

It wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time I had a life just like the people I watch buzzing around me. I had a place in one of the finest schools in the state, perfect grades, I was a cheerleader believe it or not and of course I had friends.
The thought of having real, 3 dimensional, loyal friends almost makes me laugh, this laugh leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

If only the people here could’ve seen me then, they would’ve hated me. Just like everyone else…including myself.

Picture perfect lives aren’t always what they seem.
This is a known fact, unfortunately this fact comes to my knowledge through experience….quite possibly the most torturous way to gain anything, worst of all knowledge.

I could go into great detail of my “fall from grace” as some like to put it, but now is not the time, events are blurred and the outcomes of these events are still smudged into a greyish haze with afflicts my mind. But slowly the haze is clearing and when all returns I will speak.
For now i will turn my attention back to the one who leaves me, the unreachable and stubborn Spencer Carlin stumbling through the dark, reaching out to read her every movement as if it were some precious,secret message…..one which was written just for me.

From that perfect sultry smile to girlish giggle, Ashley paints the picture of a perfect, flawless life, but when she locks eyes with me, in those all too far apart moments, causing my pulse to quicken and my cold eyes to change in such a slight way that it is barley detectable against the barriers I have so tersely weaved and moulded myself , I know different.

I know the truth.