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I'm sitting with my best friend Brooke, when she pulls out the history book out from her bag.

"This is gonna be a super hard test, Ambie."

I dread that nickname. Ambie. That takes as much time as saying Amber so just freaking say Amber. Ya know when you're a little kid and your always called sweetie, baby girl, princess. I always thought it was because my name was too ugly to say aloud for people to hear. I had a underdeveloped brain, I didn't think or realize that people say those names because you're little and cute but they also didn't even know your name. A complete stranger could come up to me and say hey honey, how are you. I would legit think it's cause my name was stupid. I was so stupid. I never thought about things. Now I think too much.

"Every test is hard, Brooke."

"Says you. You never try."

"Hey. I always manage to pass."

"Mhm."

As she starts scribbling notes on her endlessly highlighted papers, I doodle pictures of girls drowning in flowers yet still finding the oxygen to breathe through another person. It isn't weird and deep unless you think about it to much. All it really is too it is one day a girl wanted to see the flowers and laid in a field of them and because everything is injected with crap to grow faster, they grew too fast and spread over top of her and she didn't wanna die so she started breathing through someone who didn't have the feeling of collapsing lungs. Really she was just being smart. I draw things like this so I can come up with blunt responses so I can stop overthinking. Clearly it isn't working. Or maybe it is. Who knows what's going in your head, right? Once I stop focusing on my drawing and I start to grab my earphones and phone, I hear the rustles, voices and conversations I'm surrounded by.

"Okay, I get that but if you would just listen."

"They didn't deserve to win."

"BUT JEFF DESEVERED BETTER."

"He was hot for sure but not your type."

"Damn that ass tho!"

"It's kinda like a situation of broken boy meets broken girl and that's what she's avoiding."

I can't wait to get out of this hell hole and stop hearing conversations like these. No layers. No emotion. No meaning. Just useless garbage that we're wasting our breath on. However I was intrigued but the the last conversation I heard. I turn my head and decide to observe what weird creatures are having these conversations at 16 or 17 years old.

-

"It's kinda like a situation of broken boy meets broken girl and that's what she's avoiding." I explain to Michael as we put our backpacks on the chairs and take a seat getting ready to study for the huge history test coming up.

"I bet if she heard you right now, she would think you're delusional."

"Nah, she would think she's not alone."

-

Whoever that girl was, I know she would no longer feel alone, because he just made me feel less lonely. And he doesn't even know me.

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