There she stood - the quiet emo girl in the oversized hoodie she wore every day - gazing out the window that overlooked the school's courtyard. It was her usual spot, her usual time, a daily ritual: stand still, stare out, wait for lunch to end so she could get through one more class. Other students kept their distance. She was too weird, too quiet - she didn't fit into their little groups. Emo people were just...off. She knew they stared. She knew they avoided her. But it didn't bother her. Not really. She had too much on her mind. She was stuck in her head. She didn't want to go to her next class. She spent lunch bracing herself, building up whatever strength she could muster for the teacher who kept assigning things that required her to open up. To be seen. She stayed distant and composed through the rest of the day, but not in his class. Not there. That class had cracked her more than once. And beneath her hoodie, she carried the evidence. It was part of why she was labeled "emo" and "weird." She let them label her. Let them stay away. That's what she wanted. Because if anyone got too close, they might see it - that her soul bled out through her eyes. And she couldn't risk anyone getting close enough to see her walls shake, let alone fall. She spent too much of herself keeping them up.