this is long and important.

11.48 pm. age 10. day unknown.

fear swoops up and engulfs me, suddenly a solid and tangible thing that slams my body up and out of bed, head pounding like a wave crashing and i'm drowning and help...

"m-mom..."

i had traveled through the whole dark house for this. for her to be asleep.

"mom--"

"what?? oh..."

"something's wrong. i can't sleep. something...something, i mean, it's...i'm freaking out and i wanna cry for no reason."

"it's okay sweetie, you're okay. i'll take you back to bed."

we walk silently through the house that doesn't seem so dark anymore. thank god she's so forgiving. other parents, no way. like my dad. he would never help me like that. the best he can do is stay out of it, and i want to keep it that way.

- - - -

12.53 pm. age 14. market day.

"Hey wait--"

I cut myself off as my friends walk ahead of me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I decide it's useless to care. Walk tall, head up. Pretend you're fine.

"Hey," I say to my closest friend. Whatever. I'm a ghost.

Try again.

"I'm going to a concert with my cousin in October and--"

"Ooo, which one?"

"Twenty one pilots."

"Ahhh! You know I'm going to Fall Out Boy also."

"Really?"

"Yeah, with my friend from school."

"Oh. When?"

"Next month."

Whatever. It's not like I took her to a concert last year and she didn't thank me, or anything.

I don't say that, though.

I want to, but I don't. I'm shutting up, that number one rule in the book I read.

Why am I such a nerd.

We approach a large, bustling group of EW. People I know. Well, I know them, but of course they don't know I exist.

Count off.

The quarterback-- eye roll.

Nasty girl-- yuck, no.

Her ex (actually, who knows what they're doing?)-- barf. I'll be expected to like him in high school.

The Californian-- oh. I didn't know he was here. But, overrated.

Basic crowd of worshipping friends-- stab me with a spork.

And the funny thing is?

Each one of my own friends goes off talking to one of them, leaving me a few feet away with a look of pure fear and disgust on my face.

Too bad no one is talking to me.

Because I'm not talking to any of them.

- - - -

4:16 pm. age 14. market day.

"EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE."

"There's the ringtone," my newest friend in a Dalek shirt says, pulling out his iPhone. My other newest friend smiles. In the last few hours I've discovered their love for Doctor Who, my love for the two of them, and our ability as a group to eat a pound of curly fries.

"How do you say it? Is it 'daahh-leks,' or 'da-lix?' Because I think 10 says it the first way and 11 says it the second way, but I don't know.."

For a supposedly popular girl, she's quite active in the fandom. And it's not like I didn't know either of them before. It's just now that we're all being introduced, now that the glue is gone. The glue, meaning the group of people we all were connected by. But now we're connected by ourselves. I look up at the sky.

I think they fixed me.