I listen to the laughter from the sidelines, and I smile-
joining in for that split second before I realized what I was doing and I turn away, quickly- before they see me.
I sit in front of them in class, and i hear of parties and love found and lost, and faked and real,
and I sit a little straighter, lest they suspect I\'m listening.
Listening and imagining a life so bold, so interesting.
I pass them in the hallways, with their pretty hair and cute clothes, and flawless faces, and I falter -
because how badly do i wish I could just pause there and blend right in, unnoticed, absorb some of their perfection.
I doodle in my scrapbook of me- only I\'m not me, I\'m them, with them, like them.
And I look cute and cool and flawless - then I mess up and try to erase, but it only gets worse, so I scribble over the picture and slam the book shut.
And I see them. Sitting at the table with all the cool guys, laughing and taunting and flirting, and perfect.
And I leave the hall, and I take my bag, and I go home. Past my screaming mother and my slurring father, into my room and I shut the door with the broken hunge and I jam it shut.
And I take my little white bottle, and I pop it open. And I put my teddy bears on the bed, and I lay down amongst them.
I hold Berrybear under my arm (because she\'s my favorite because grandma gave her to me when I was 4,) and I swallow all the little white saviors that fall into my hand.
And I lay back, and I close my eyes, and I relax.
And I hold Berrybear close, and I exhale, and.....
it\'s flawless.
