I stare out the window of the big yellow bus.
Blaring my iPod.
Counting the white fluffy clouds.
Blocking out the world.

I stare into the bathroom mirror.
Pills in one hand.
Blade in the other.
Begging to end my life world.

I stare at the ceiling in the hospital.
Puke bowl to the side of me.
Beeping of machinery down the hallway.
Shutting my eyes to the world.

I stare at the house that was home.
Sitting in the car.
Dreading going in.
Tears flowing, blurring my vision to the world.

I stare through the cafeteria window.
Laughing with my new friends.
Counting my now great many friends, over and over again.
No longer wanting to block out the world.