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As per usual, I'm home alone. I suppose it gets a little lonely after a while when there's no one to talk to, although, I'm not sure if I'd even talk given the chance. Most of the time I want to lock myself away and sleep forever.

The weird thing is, I'm not sure why I'm like this. I have a warm home, food on the table every night, an amazing mum who's done more than I could ever ask for, money, a car. There's actually nothing wrong with my life, so I can't figure out why I'm always in this indescribable mood. There's literally no other way to explain it other than sad and numb. It's always been like this, ever since I was a kid. Sometimes I wondered if it was because of my dad, but my sister and brother turned out perfectly fine, they dealt with the same shit he put me through. He never hit me; never hurt me physically, he was just an extremely narcissistic and manipulative man who some would class as an emotional abuser. I think I should probably be more emotionally scarred by this, but every time I think of what he was like, I feel nothing. In all honestly, that was normal for me, so it still feels normal now. He left when I was twelve, so at least I didn't have to deal with it for long.

Maybe I was just born like this. I just can't figure out why. What's wrong with me? Perhaps it's just one of those things that can't be helped.

I play music out loud on my phone. I don't have to use my headphones, because no one's here to be disturbed by my music.

Wait, by M83.

It reminds me of The Fault In Our Stars. I love the movie, but the book just gives the mood a more deeper feeling which I can really connect to. I usually go for books with happy endings because it puts me in a better mood, but sometimes I crave to read the most heart wrenching books ever written, just because it makes me feel understood in some circumstances.

I'm a severely depressed human-being who struggles to cry and show how I'm really feelings. Sometimes, by reading those books, it's the only time I can actually show a bit of human emotion.

On the outside, I'm a content, emotionless person who has never had a problem in her life. On the inside, it feels like I'm scorching with an indescribable pain that no one ever seems to notice.

I think I'm quite okay with that. At the end of the day, I guess it doesn't really matter.

* * *

I'm listening to music on my headphones as I stare into nothingness. I'm daydreaming, as per usual, when Mr Peters arrives and sighs heavily, expressing his exhaustion which could easily be seen through his eyes.

I wonder if it's work that's making him so stressed, or if perhaps it's something deeper than that which no other students take any care in guessing because he's just a teacher and apparently teacher's lives don't matter. Sometimes we forget that they're human too, yet they're expected to be perfect role models who can't dare to make one mistake.

William sits beside me, his brown curls are messy like they usually are, but not in the way that makes them look bad. I think no matter what he does with his hair, it'll somehow always look good. I subtly watch out of the corner of my eye and study him as he fiddles with the black rings on his fingers. They're plain bands which he seems to touch a lot. I wonder if he wears them simply because he likes them or if there's a deeper meaning behind it. His face is glum and his eyebrows are in their natural furrowed position as he glances to his friends who are all talking through their minds. They're not communicating with words, but suddenly their expressions change and they break out into grins. They don't notice that I'm observing them.

I guess that's one good thing about me. People never notice me, so they don't realise that I see and hear everything. I know a lot more about my classmates than they realise, but it's not like they should worry. I wouldn't tell anyone anything, even if I did have friends. I'm not the sort of person to gossip or talk about other's secrets. In fact, I like to keep as far away from those sorts of people as I possible can.

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