Jo felt trapped. Everywhere Jo looked Jo wanted to do something, say something, but Jo felt trapped. All of Jo's dreams was just that...dreams. Jo wouldn't talk much, just say hello or goodbye. Jo didn't know if Jo had friends. Sure people would say Jo was a friend one day, then the next Jo was left alone, again. In Jo's head the sentences,"This is the day, I'm going to speak up and tell everybody how I feel. I'm going to be brave, compassionate, and stand up for myself. No more antisocial." Would pop up and of course none of that happened. Jo still sat alone in lunch, head down. "When will I ever speak up? When will I wake up realizing being social is apart of living and I'll need to learn how to deal with it?" Jo also wandered things like this all the time. Jo was always buried in a book or writing something that might never be finished. "I can't do nothing right. I'm always making mistakes." Suicide had popped in Jo's head at times but managed  to keep it from triggering. 
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The name might as well be forgotten. I'm one to think of the worst possible things to happen. I don't cry much but when I do it's of the small things like when my headphones were destroyed. My grandfather died and not a tear came only when I was alone. I'm still learning the odd ways of this thing we call life. I have 4 brothers. Very long description and why you're still reading I don't know I would have stopped a long time ago but that's just me

-Sophie