Description
In a dark corner of a room, a woman in her 20s sat across her bed, her knees are on her chest and her face is covered in tears. Her eyes were puffy and red. Little strands of hair stick out in any direction, her hair is a mess--just like her life. Pain strikes her chest ever since she learned how to think. She never experience true happiness like a normal person. She never get to experience to play outside her house or let the sun kiss her skin. 'Everyday becomes more miserable.' she thought, wiping her tears. In school, she was always alone. She is that one person who stays quiet and sits in a corner. She never talks to anyone except to her dolls or herself. It keeps her entertained. She says that her dolls were nicer to her than the real kids, because they always pick up on her and always mean. "Why do they hate me?" she whispered to herself.
The One Who Always Been Different
