my pencil taps like a metronome against the wood that is my desk each second being counted by my mind longing for the sound of the blaring bell to indicate it's time to move on, I play the waiting game all day sitting alone in the corner of the room, every couple minutes dazing out the window into the scenery all the kids in the classroom mindlessly talking away, my ears focusing in and out of conversations not because I want to hear but instead because I'm forced, their mouths blaring like sirens off a firetruck I sit here, thoughts eating me away like always waiting for the day to come to an end, waiting for the time I get to myself to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling for seemingly no reason at all I feel more lonely than ever, the feeling that no body cares or has any genuine interest in me anymore, the feeling that my friends hate me and even if they say they don't I won't believe them the feeling that I just want to lay here and wait for the day to come where I go to sleep and don't wake up but I want to live, I want to see the next day and hope that something happens, something of a miracle maybe everything will come together one day, and that's what I'm hoping for but until then, here in my bed I will lay pondering of what good things may come I just hope they come soon