So, where did this all start?
I scrape my nails against the side of the blue plastic seat, harsh floresent lights beat down. My chocolate brown shoes tap the floor, I fidget with everything; the loose threads on my checkerd, cotton flanel shirt, I turn over my grandmother's shining and lusturous pearl earings in their holes again and again.
Armscrossed, lips sealed, I could never tell you any of this. I'm blind. My empty eyes look down, seeing nothing. I'm surrounded and I know it, I just can't place my finger on who, what, when, where, and why. This deep, impossible haze blurring and distorting life until it is just grey static on the television.
I feel breath on my neck, hear you call my name. Your hand on my cheek you kneel beside me. You say my name once more, gently.
Who is this girl? I don't know. I can't see her, I can't find her. You call me home, tell me to follow you. It's not nice to tease a girl with empty eyes.

I push myself up, away from you.