Picture a girl, average in every way: she's medium height, average weight, brown-eyed. She is leaving her house. It's dark outside, only 6:30 in the morning. Cold, too. She's bundled up in a warm winter jacket. Walking fast. Legs are cold, numbingly so.

She walks by many houses, some of which are the ones of what used to be her friends. They're dark. The streets are empty and she crosses without looking, but she wouldn't care if she got hit.

She walks by the pond. Realizes she could die. Could kill herself. Starts to cry. Stops on the red wooden bridge. Looks out at the ducks, the ice. Takes out her cell phone. A phone will work just fine for what she wants to do.

She switches to camera mode. Focuses on ducks. Focuses on ice. Focuses on horizon. Snap. Snap. Beauty capture.

She continues to school. Goes to locker. Gets stuff for the day. Goes to English classroom. It's empty. Half an hour passes. She goes to Latin. Writes Dream. Learns stuff. Goes to gym. Plays with exercise ball. Goes to history. Writes Nightmare. Learns stuff. Goes to biology. Learns stuff. Draws water cycle. Goes to lunch. Barely eats. Talks, studies. Goes to English. Takes quiz. Writes this. Goes to algebra. Does math. It's the end of the day. She goes to her locker. Walks home. Laughs, smiles, talks. Gets home. Does homework. It's the usual: sibling rivalry, parent hatred.

So plain and boring. So unimpressive. So perfect.