I have always felt like an outsider. Never feeling accepted in society, never accepted at home. At school, I’m just a random face in the hallways or the yearbook. At home, I am there but not actually there. I am what they call the invisible. And even when I am noticed, I am usually forgotten.

Forgotten. It runs through my head constantly. Alone. Outsider. Invisible. “Stop,” I say as if I can control my mind when really I am the puppet. The cooling sensation of my tears burns my eyes. My sick mind gets the pleasure from my tears. It coldly whispers, you know it’s true. Do something and no one will notice. I try to deny it although I know it’s true. It gets worse when people decide to leave and forget about me and their promises. I work to keep my head held high with more struggle than it is worth at school. Eventually, I make it through the day. It is when the shadow of the night is my only company when I cry. The darkness is a blanket, something that can hide secrets.

At those moments in time, I never feel more like an outsider. My broken and bruised heart sinks deep into my stomach while my eyes begin to flood with hot, salty tears. I gently wrap my arms around myself tightly wishing someone was there to hold me. Slowly, I sink into the floor. That image goes through my head, me sinking in the never ending ocean, never being able to break through the surface. That is when I know that I will always be an outsider.