"There's a spot empty next to Kirs Trompton in the far back." The teacher said to some girl that attends my high school on the first day. It's the day everyone picks their seats. The day I come to school 15 minutes early so I can choose a spot in the far back in the corner so I can hide there for the rest of the year.
"No it's okay I can sit on my own." The girl said. It's also the day I pity myself even more as no one even thinks of sitting next to me. It shows how pitiful I truly am, as if I didn't know it yet folks.
People also don't sit down next to me because I'm a loud breather. I don't breathe loud because I can't breathe softly. I breathe loud to remind myself that my body is functioning and that I'm not dead. Breathing heavy is probably not the only reason people pretend to not know I exist, but still. I breathe heavy because I need to remind myself that I'm alive, because I live like I'm dead. I'm quiet and no one really notices whether I'm present or not. Not like they care. Not like I care for all that matters. I don't cause trouble and I don't try to make people like me or befriend me. When people talk to me I sometimes don't even answer. When I walk through the hallway I make myself even smaller and keep my body to myself so I don't have to touch anyone so everyone keeps doing what they're doing without them noticing I'm there and that I'm alive.
Like I said, I'm a loud breather. It's not that I can't breathe softly, I just need to remind myself that I'm alive. That my body is functioning and that I'm physically alive. While truly, I'm dead inside.
