Opening the door to her house, Mrs. P throws her stuff on the floor in a careless manner as she falls into the seat of her desk chair. Staring at the blank computer screen she picks up a pencil making a rhythm out of the taps ricocheting from her desk. Snapping herself out of the trans she set for herself, she logs into her computer as an attempt to vent her frustrates out through poetry again. Blinking away her tired eyes, she takes a sip out of her tea left over from the night before and begins typing:

  "My indifference insists on my existence being made for a purpose only persistence can sustain. I'm told to not talk about myself but when I don't I point the finger blame. My cane is able to control me when I slowly begin to drain my pain, it's almost like I was made to sustain the burdens of everyone. When I let go they keep coming, ever since I was young I would take punishment for things I had never done. Not putting too much thought into consequence, I would imagine myself in a different place. I even wanted braces because I noticed the way people would talk and how they would move their face, and so I would play it off like I had them too. My voice would change depending on who I would hang out with, it would range from a raspy laid back tone to a high pitch depending on what made me interested. I loved watching the kids in my class write, all with different hand motions. I practiced them all despite how I might come off. I've always been a "biter" or a loser. The one in the group who's parents forced them to invite to their parties because I wasn't cool enough. Too weird for a consistent attraction, instead I stayed home and found my passion. I had another life when I would bounce my ball from wall-to-wall. I made up characters and played them all. Then once I grew older I found joy in my toxic calls from "friends" to get drunk. In 8th grade it was rare that I stayed home on the weekends. Then I grew out of that stage when I had my first real boyfriend at 15. Then he got locked up for 18 months forcing me to play house wife locked away in his cave but it was okay because I knew that one day it would all be real. Though sequence of events caused him to steal from me revealing his love to be fake, I had to break it up. Later on I thanked him because he gave me the gift of maturity and some patience. I also learned how to write because letters were all we had. I don't know where I'm going with this I just hope that someone can relate, because when it comes down to it, I'm my only friend in this world filled with hate."

  Hesitant, she logs into her social media account and put this out there for the world to see. Then quickly logs off in fear of time changing her mind. Without turning off the light or changing her clothes, she throws herself into her bed and falls asleep on sight.