Fragments

Wake up tired and drained to wander into the bathroom to stare at a face the media tells you could be so much better.
Put on the expensive clothes. Paint the face so that it is mildly pleasing.
Get in the car and laugh about nothing.
Say goodbye and stand in the cold, waiting for the bus.
Study.
Go to class.
Study.
Check email to find no response. Want to say so much more, to hear more, to interact with the people that are missed so much. Remain silent. Too scared of being intrusive or annoying.
Too many memories of being unwelcome.
Too much time alone.
Go to class.
Study.
Write a paper through gritted teeth. Not enough time. Not enough sleep.
Say hi to potential friends. Nice people. Strangers.
Check email. Damn. Stop obsessing.
Go to class.
Study.
Study.
Study.
Hit a wall. Catch a bus. Wonder what piece is missing. Feel the flaws grate against the heart. The mind.
The stomach.
Walk uphill. Sleep in the car.
Wake up. Go home. Eat.
Swallow the pills. One. Two. ….Seven.
They settle as insecurities in the stomach.
Grating.
Hate the pills. Hate that you have to take them.
Run upstairs. Turn on the shower.
Claw at the skin. Scrubbing. Grating.
And when all the paint runs down the drain, you're left with a girl who has
never been
kissed.