It was the most glorious day today. I got to walk home too. One of the very rare occasions of warmth it seems. It's so odd. I feel like I'm in some sort of distorted fairy-tale. As I walk home, well I basically take a path that's carved right through woods. Of course there are houses all around it, I mean this is a development. But... the trees, the animals. It's all still there. You hear the birds chirping and watch as they fly past you on their business. Or a squirrel will scurry past as you walk along the street. I've even seen a whole family of deer just grazing on the patches of green. They look up, they look down, they keep eating. Thanks to the myriad houses you pass you get your own little soundtrack. Hundreds of wind-chimes, stirred by a faint breeze, making a beautiful ringing song as you walk by. Oh, and did I mention the creek? Yes, we even have our own little creek-- a mini-river or stream. It gurggles on it's merry little way as you pass over the stone bridge, tumbling over the rocks in the bed. So yeah, this is what I get to walk home too everyday. Lucky me, huh?

                    It would be even better if I got to enjoy it.

                     You see, I would love to be out there... just walking around in the middle of it all. But I can't. I'm not crippled, I'm not diseased. I'm just... scared? I don't think that's the right word. I just realize some things that maybe others look over. The fact that I would have absolutely nothing to do, for one. I'm not the type of person to just walk around in circles. Which is basically what I'd be doing, seeing as I have no other reason to go outside. Two people walking for no reason makes sense; it's a casual walk to talk and enjoy company. One person just ambling along down the road makes it seem like you're homeless. Or have just lost your wits. Or on the run from something. Any way you look at it- it's not pretty. The last thing I need is for some cop to think I'm a runaway. Or for people to think I'm psycho. Which they probably already do, so I'd just be making things worse.

                       As if it doesn't torture me enough I can hear the other kids playing outside. I used to think that there was no one to play with. Now I find there's just too many. You hear them laugh, knowint they're your own age. Knowing they won't look back on this day and regret. But you will. Because you've done nothing. Though, really, I'd just end up regretting today anyway. I can play out the scenario perfectly. I'd walk outside, awkwardly ask to play or just hang out. They'd say yes so they could be nice to me. But it would turn out awkward. It just would. All the facts spell it out. They don't know me. They weren't planning on having anything to do with me. I put them in an awkward position (because, come on, who would say no? That would be mean.). It would just be overall awkward. I'd be the odd girl out. Believe me, growing up as an only child you figure out these things. You might think it goes better, but it doesn't. I just don't trick myself into believing that anymore. 

 
                       So yeah. This is my distorted fairy-tale. I sit up in my parent's room on the third floor of my house, peering out my window into the backyard. Into the backyard with the mysterious forest, to the laughter. To the adventure. I open the window and it only becomes louder. I can smell the air, hear the birds chirping more crisply. But I just sit there: kneeling by the window, hand folded in my lap or on the window ledge. Like some forgotten princess locked away in the tower. Though, by no means am I a princess... It does rather resemble a cage. My windows have screens in them. But this fairy-tale has a twist. Because I'm the one who locked myself in here- with all my reasoning and self-conciousness. With all my truths. And I was the one who destroyed the key.