That's the pathetic thing about high school. Everyone tries so hard to be something they aren't. It's gotten so I don't know who I am, so how can I even try to be who I am, much less who I'm not?
My problem is that I don't even fit in with the misfits.
I don't fit anywhere.

I longed to be wrapped in his arms again, pour my troubles, make everything feel okay, even if it wasn't.

I felt a tightening in my chest, a sharp spike of intense sadness-almost like nostalgia, except it was for a life I never had.

I was deep in a dream about photography-walking through a strange city with buildings that stretched so high they disappeared into the clouds. And every time I took a picture of one, it shivered and changed into something else. A sound came from a building behind me-a soft song. I started to walk toward it's open doors, but they closed. I would have to climb in a window-
and then I woke up.

That's the whole problem, isn't it? He turned his face toward the night sky and let out a horrible laugh, like a gasp of pain. Why are you the only person who's allowed to be strong?

Don't you get it? he asked. Every time you try to protect me, you end up breaking my heart.

Apparently when it's two people, it's quirky and funny, but when it's a person doing the same stuff on her own, it's rebellious and antisocial.

I'm a giant pimple on the face of humanity.