Everyone looks at me with shame, like I don't belong. Then again how can anyone... They say I'm different, wrong, colorless, all because I dress different, and because I don't talk to them, a slut is what I am in their mind. I am nothing in this perfect world of cheerleaders and jocks. I am a writer a hidden, girl trapped in this perfect world, hidden in my bedroom, typing day and night. To them I say where will you be in ten years? I will still be hidden in my colorless room typing but, i will leave this room for tours that i will go on to promote my book. To them I am un-perfect, to me we are all un-perfect, they are fake and I am real.
