I am drowning in a black sea of bitterness and hate. I hate them for doing this to me- making me feel so utterly useless and ugly. I stand surrounded by thorns with the sun beating down on me and it’s almost beautiful. Then the sun tucks itself behind the clouds and the wind blows, causing the thorns to catch on my clothing and skin. They tear at my hair and rip me apart. Like the words of the kids at school, they sink into me. They cut, they bruise, they wound. The wind picks up and I suddenly feel threatened again. As if there’s someone watching me, taking not of my every move, analyzing what I will do next. Like a startled animal, I turn and flee so quickly that the thorns cut my face in slashes. Thin red lines appear and a trickle of blood falls down my cheek. The skies open up as I run back to my house. By the time I’m inside, I’m soaked. But I am safe. No one else is here, no one else is home. And this is where I feel safest. Alone. Where no one can hurt me anymore. I can ignore my problems and act like my life is just fine. Maybe that makes me a coward. Running away from my problems. I do it at school too when the kids yell across the cafeteria at me. I ignore and I walk away, but the faster I run, the more their words catch up to me and cut me. Each word cuts me deeper and deeper, leaving a gaping wound that a few hugs from my friends can’t fix anymore. I hate myself for running away. I always told myself I wouldn’t, but I did. Tomorrow I’ll go back to the patch of thorns. I’ll face it head on and I won’t back away- not this time.