"Clean up on isle 3"

It seems like the loud speakers aren't working. Because no one is coming with a mop. And we all just keep slipping.

"Clean up on isle 3"

I'm getting torn in half, here. And no one dares come sew me up. 
My bite is a hell of a lot worse than my bark. 

"Clean up on isle 3?"

At this point I'm all out of words. The blood has drained from my fingertips and all they do these days is twitch.
 Really I just want to talk about Ender's Game and my PE class. Because they matter for some reason.

 I'm a little bit afraid of my inability to stop thinking about the trailer teachers, and how pathetic their lives are. Sitting in semi-dark rooms and laughing at semi-funny jokes. Presenting power point presentations that they don't care about and quietly bad mouthing their wives. I think they're lying whenever they smile.

"Clean up...isle 3"

I never meant to make my mom cry like that. I never meant to hurt anyone. God, forgive me. I don't know how I got here. And even if I wanted to leave I can't. 

I'll be fine. Just don't leave me alone in the flourescent lights. They make my skin look green, and no one else will love me but you.

Welcome home, to isle 3.
Take your shoes off at the door, please.

-M