Apologies Mean Nothing If You Don't Mean

I Have Entered High School With The Wrong Hair, The Wrong Clothes, The Wrong Attitude. And I Don't Have Anyone To Sit With.

She Turns To Us, Acts Surprised To See Us, Then Does The Bit With The Back Of The Hand To The Forehead. "you're Lost!" "you're Angry!" "you're In The Wrong School!" "you're In The Wrong Country!" "you're On The Wrong Planet!

They Yell At Me Because I Can't See What They See. Nobody Can Explain To Me Why My Eyes Work Different Than Theirs.

It Was Like Looking At A Knot, Knowing It Was A Knot, But Not Knowing How To Untie It. I Had No Map For This Life.

I Showed Her How I'd Been Making Tiny Cuts In My Skin To Let The Badness And The Pain Leak Out. They Were Shallow At First, And Short, Like Claw Marks Made By A Desperate Cat That Wanted To Hid Under The Front Porch. Cutting Pain Was A Different Flavor Of Hurt. It Made It Easier Not To Think About Having My Body And My Family And My Life Stolen, Made It Easier Not To Care.