I stared down at my tan wrist forgetting that I’m being watched by all that surrounds me. They’re scared with long, deep and once painful cuts. I look around to see what students were staring at me. Of course there from the corner of my left green eye I see his boy watching me like he’s just waiting for me to have a suicide temp again. This boy isn’t popular, hardly cute and very smart. I guess people would call him a nerd. I don’t know his name, his age, his grade or why he often does this [I guess the same reason why the others do; I’m what they call creepy, gothic, insane, depressing, un-normal; yeah that’s the word, un-normal] but it annoys me deeply. He takes a look away from me, hearing the teacher grunt. I smirked while laughing inside my head. The bell had rung disturbing my trait of deep thought. I walk out into the hall along with all the others.