At first it was just because of how cold my bed was. I shift around to warm up but it never stays for long.

  Then came the fact about how cramped my legs felt, I move around to make room, but it barely helps.

    After a while I started to smell my mother's cooking trying to wake me from my slumber, I turn around pressing my face into my pillow to block out the smell.

    It was starting to get on my nerves about how dark my room was, but I’ve always slept in the dark before? But just for tonight, I wish I had a light on.

    I feel a bit lonely sleeping alone, then I wonder if my sister or mother could sleep with me tonight? I’m starting to feel very lonely here.

   Then there was the sound of people talking, a few laughing but mostly crying. Don’t they know I’m trying to sleep?

   Lastly, I can’t sleep because I’m already dead.

    My heart was thumping in my chest as I focus my gaze onto my desk. In 8th grade middle school i’m in the awkward years of life but so was everyone else.

I did nothing extraordinary but put my soul into a piece of paper and gave it up to be valued by those of higher standings then us middle schoolers.  Still like most kids my age I want to feel special, 

“...you have gotten your painting in the permanent fifteen! What do you feel?”

   I look up in shock inside what to say but none the less I whispered out.

“...Amazed”