A cool breeze whips my hair. The red hot, curls blowing like a blazing fire. I trudge onwards, my blue scarf escaping my presence. It twists and churns, being tortured by the roaring wind. I chase after it. My stiff school shoes, restricting my pace. My feet patter, one after another. My scarf flies further, so do my hopes. It trails off, my thoughts following. Another day of failure. Another day of harsh words, lost souls and deep thoughts. Do I have to go?

The scarf drops. It plummets into the drooping earth. I hurry to go pick it up. My shoelaces are undone. I don't stop to tie them up, there is no time. My scarf is blowing into the crushed waves of the harbour.

I stumble. The lace catching the sole of my shoe. I might trip. Then I would never make it to my scarf. But I have to keep going! I'll trip though! Won't I? I just go on. My scarf centre metres away. I inch closer. The lace clips my shoe. I hesitate. Then I crack. I tumble. Face on the stone, cold cement.

This resembles me. I am a failure. A girl who belongs on the ground. Face down, where no one can see me. I have no social life. I am nobody. No one knows me, or likes me. If you don’t agree, then why has no one helped me up yet?