By Death's Angel

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Disclaimers: I do own this story, and it is completely original.

Source of Inspiration: Listening to 'Outside' by Staind one too many times and too many long nights at the computer.

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So many times I'm unable to fit in, so many times I'm left out. I tell myself it doesn't matter, but it does. It really does. I can't help but think, "What did I ever do to deserve this? Why does anyone ever get pushed away like this?" And then when I get home, I can hear my mother, "How was school?" "Fine, mom," I reply, as always. She doesn't know about the pain I go through every waking moment there. And I won't let her know. I refuse to be sheltered. I couldn't deal with that any easier than I can deal with these people in my class.

I'm quiet when I should speak, I speak at all the wrong times. I've learned when to talk and when not to a little better, but I'm still not good at it. How many people in eighth grade get approached by seven or more people a day, the latter wanting to hurt them? Not many I suppose. No one in my school but me. Strange.

The teachers are just as bad, hating me as well. What did I do to deserve to be hated so? I rarely ever talk in school! Is it because I'm the odd one, the one refusing to conform to the 'popular' group's rules? I suppose. I tell myself that's what it is, but in actuality, I don't know. I never knew. How long has this been going on? I can't remember. For as long as I've lived here?

Is it because I'm an outsider? I moved her in preschool though, so that doesn't really matter. Does it? How many times have I made it home, only to have my bravado fall apart once I've reached my room? I don't know. It seems like every day. Maybe it is. I loose track of time so easily now, I just drift from day to day.

When I get home from my hell, I go straight to my room. My room's my sanctuary now, and I don't know how I'd ever get along without it. My computer's already on, for I turn it on in the morning right before my hell drags me in, and I get online. Suddenly, I'm a different person, different soul it seems. So many nights I've cried after getting offline. But these tears are different as well, forgein to me at times. I'm relieved. Relieved that there's somewhere I can fit in at.

But then I go to bed, and wake up. Once more I'm on the outside, looking in. Why do I have to be strange? Why? Then I find my own answer. I have to be because to be anything else is to lie to myself. I cannot do that. I refuse to lie to myself. And why must I be so proud? Why can't I simply lay down, and keep my mouth shut when someone makes fun of my difference? Because I am me, I suppose. I cannot help it. How many times have I come home with a busted lip or black eye? I can't remember. Truthfully, it doesn't matter, does it?

So many times I've felt insecure. Why? I don't know. I'm on the outside, looking in again. These transparent people try to stop me, but they can't. And on these occasions, I have my computer. There's my comfort in the glowing screen. So many nights I stay awake, lights off, music low, typing by the light of the glowing screen. That's why they cannot beat me fully. As long as my computer is glowing, a light in my heart will remain.

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Short, short, short. I know. Please review since you read this. I know not a lot of people go looking at the originals, so review and let me know I didn't write this for nothing. Thank you.