Small stories with deep meanings.

Eyes.

Presenting things in front of people was hard.

But not as hard as it was for her.

She was quiet.

She hated when everyone was looking at her.

It usually felt like everyone was, though.

No matter what she did. 

Everyone. Was. Starring. At. Her.

She hated that feeling, the feeling where everybody's looking at you, about to judge you for anything you say.

That's why she barely talked. She figured if she didn't say anything, they couldn't judge her.

But people still judged her. 

They judged her because she was quiet, "She never says anything, it's weird.", "Can you even speak?", "I've never heard her talk before."

It didn't matter what she did,

They all said things about her.

So then she started talking, and people still said things, "God, you're so loud.", "Could you stop talking? It's annoying.", "Boys only like quiet girls, not loud girls."

It seemed as though, anytime she tried fitting in, anytime she tried to get people to stop,

They just couldn't.

But why? What could she do for people to stop judging her?

She came with an idea. A gruesome, horrid idea, but maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't say anything anymore.

Hanging from the ceiling, her mother came in.

She informed the school of her daughters loss, crying. 

But the kids still judged, "I can't believe she did that.", "Wow, what a weirdo.", "She wasted her life.", "What a pity, I guess."

God damn it, will they ever stop?