In my stories, I am the girl in the back with pretty eyes and bitten nails, a girl with a thousand classic books read and the daughter feeling somehow abandoned with a family that loves her.

In reality, I mind not the middle of the class, my eyes I find nice and no matter how hard I try, my nails only shrink with a cutter. I abandon myself and I confess to a bunch of strangers how twisted a little girl's life grows once she is exposed to the realities of her mind, poisoned by, well, society.

But honestly, no one is to blame.