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Dreams

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Why wasn’t I running? They were all running towards me, an angry mob, and I was sitting nervously in the desk from my geometry class, the one with the words all over it, the one they had to take out of the classroom. I was just waiting for the attack, my eyes wide. The crowd got closer. Closer still. I started to hear their voices faintly at first, but they got louder and louder. A drum beat, steady and sharp, making my ears throb. I sat there still, but now big dolloping tears dropped down my cheeks. Each tear I caught in my open palm: Each tear fell on an open wound. My sobs got more intense. My whole frame shook. Their hateful words were becoming louder. They were in my face as I sobbed, yelling; screaming. What frightened me most was the face closest to mine. It was her face. Her voice was the loudest, and suddenly every word spoken was sloppily written upon the blank walls in harsh, bright colors. “Freak” “Whore” “You’re sick” “Dyke” “No One Wants you” “Just Die” “Fag”….

The boldest words, her words,stood out in black.









“I HATE YOU”
















Save me.





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