I hate feeling alone. I remember when I was younger, when my dad died, I would be alone. I know that I was young and don’t really remember anything, but I do remember little snippets of my past and I was alone most of the time. It was just me and my mom and my mom was always busy trying to live with the fact that my dad wasn't with her anymore.
I walk in through the red metal doors. It looks dim in here. You’d think by how small of a school this is, they’d have enough money to buy another light bulb. The walls in the hallway are full of many lockers, yet there aren’t many kids here. People are staring at me-- is it because I'm new? It is a small school, I mean, they should know I’m new. I still don’t like people staring at me. I feel alone, yet I like it. Not because no one is talking to me, which I wish someone would do, but knowing that I’m not getting pushed into a locker or getting a tray of food dumped on me. It’s nice.
Death, in fact, is what I wished for. But, I will wake up today hoping that is something I never wish for again. Beep! Beep! Beep! The noise of my alarm grows louder and louder every second I come closer to becoming conscious again. I hate that noise, it brings me back to the ninth grade when I had to get up this early to go to my living hell.