Poison
The small girl laid in the equally small bed, resistant to relax to the pleasures of slumber. She wrapped a blanket around her. Even in the faint candlelight, she could see the poor walls, her iron chamber. Just fall asleep already, her mind seemed to reprimand her. No! All sleeping did was bring hopes, hopes that she could find any affection to relieve the aching loneliness in her soul. Yet what were hopes that would be crushed several seconds after waking? She wiped a lone tear slipping down her check, rolled over on her side.
Silly, silly girl, she thought, you are not extraordinary. People will not turn their heads on the sidewalk, to see who this mysterious interesting girl is. People will not note whose soft voice rang out the incorrect algebra answer. When you speak, and make idle, pathetic conversation, people will note that you have absolutely no speaking skills. What good a person who cannot even speak?
You are shy.
Ha!
You are no more shy than I, madam. You sit there in the back, pen idly drawing on paper, and you glance out the window and think of a better life. Tch. A better life. What is that? There is no such thing, I assure you.
Here she paused, thinking of what to say to herself next. She brought the blanket closer to her chest and sighed. The light at the edge of her small bed flickered in the darkness of the small room. A soft snore emanated from across her. Now impatient to fall asleep, she turned on her bed and remembering her stuffed bear, brought it out from the small crack between the bed and the wall. She wrapped her arms around the bear, it's brown fur mattered through years of use. She sighed still, buried her face in the fur of the poor bear, and wept useless lonely tears that only reminded her of a poison that would surely haunt her forever.