My pillow is heavy with unshed tears and the crimson slits hold the evidence. But you don't want to know about that. You want to hear how okay I am and what crazy weekend adventures I had. You don't want to know what the adventures are hiding you don't want to know if I'm okay. You just want me to be another number in the system another student you can't pick out of a crowd another girl to throw away just like the last. You don't want to know how I am.