ImagineJohnLennon

He stayed for an hour. He talked, and I listened. Sometimes I hate listening. Because that's all I do. I sit all day and I listen. I listen to the conversations of the other kids at the high school. I listen to the wind blowing through the trees. I listen to the kids answering questions. I listen to the sounds of footsteps echoing through the halls. I listen to the music that comes out through my iPod speakers, the music that flows in through my ears, disturbs my brain, and wrenches my heart into two. I never make any sound though. No one listens to me. I make no sound other than the strangled screams through the duct tape. But it was differ

The only way to survive unnoticed is to become invisible. So I am the child who the teachers don't remember, because my papers are so average. So not special. Not bad. But unnoticeable. That is why I put my hair in my face, and avoid contact with anyone. But you can't just sit alone. Because that attracts other loners. You have to camouflage into a herd of unnoticeable bodies, and hide there. You have to be invisible so no one notices when you're gone. So no one can answer when the police come around looking for suspects for the recent murder. Or when my mother comes because in my rage I killed myself.  Or when in the middle of class I disap

I had only had one attack at school. I was 13 then. It was only my third attack I think.  I had run into the bathroom and locked myself into a stall. The janitor must have thought that someone had committed some kind of mass murder in the stall. But really it was only me thinking I was pushing hair out of my face, and instead creating a huge gap in my furry forehead. Or smashing myself against the bathroom wall thinking I was just backing up. Someone came looking for me I think, and I used all my strength to stop from shrieking or moaning. Since then, I've always had a roll of duct tape handy, and I keep a low profile in class. I had a frie

It was starting again. It hadn't for so long. Ripping at my skin, it started, down by the very tips of my toes, and the edges of my long fingers. I wasn't prepared, it had been nearly a month since my last attack, and I wasn't prepared. I grabbed the duct tape sitting by my bed, and I started franticly wrapping it around my toes and fingers. I had only done one foot when a massive claw broke through one of my toes, ugly and disgtusting, with bits of dried blood on the claw and dark  brown fur around the edges. The ache in my mouth told me that my fangs were coming in, and I frantically wrapped duckt tape around my lower leg and lower arm, hur