I sit staring out the window, watching the people having fun. I want there lives. I look in the mirror, then look away. I live the life that nobody wants. The girl who passes mall trips and “chills” at the library. The kind of girl who’s friends are her teachers and parents.

Why cant I be perfect too, just like them. They are beautiful, rich, funny, popular, everything I want to be. But never can be. I used to turn to books to make me feel better but now that doesn’t even work. Now all I do is sit there, wishing.

I picture myself on top of the world, having the best life, and loving it. Then I open my eyes, and everything’s the same.

Then I see them after the fun is done. They are sad and as un perfect as me. I am just like everyone else. Because, nobodies perfect