My whole life, I have lived separate from everyone else. It wasn’t by choice. The other kids at my school just don’t understand me…don’t want to understand me. They whisper things like “freak” and “insane” as I brush past them in the halls. They move away from me when I sit down at the library. No one parks next to me, or eats lunch with me, or sits next to me during class. Every partner project I have ever done has been solo.
They think I’m different. They are right about that. I am the same as them in every way: I eat, sleep, go to school, do homework, and spend hours on Facebook and Twitter. I work out every day, and I sport some pretty big guns. I am the same, except for the voices. No one else hears them.
They tell me things, they guide me through my day, and somehow they always know what is to come. For months now they had been saying that something will happen at school, something terrible. I should have been prepared, but the gunshot took me as surprise. I could have saved them, but then again, no. They wouldn’t have LET me save them, because I’m a freak.
I’m not alright, because everyone thinks I’m just another psycho.