She wears a steel ID necklace around her neck and she's always afraid that it is the first thing you see about her. Her pocket is a bulge where her testing supplies stick out. She looks like a mess again today, because she feels like a mess. Her thick brown hair is frizzed up around her face and neck, and her clothes never seem to fit right. She is sick of feeling fragile, and she tries to hold back the complaints that plant themselves on her lips. She is fifteen years old, and vulnerable is her middle name.

She wakes up early to be ready for the bus and she feels like a drag every morning. She can't seem to find any clothes don't make her feel like a bowling ball. She will get on the bus, still fearing that everyone is staring at her. As if everyone is talking about how bad she looks again today. Her blood sugar was too high again last night, and she wants to tell the world how afraid she is, but she wouldn't tell you that. She fears she is complaining too much, just like she did yesterday.

Her first period teacher doesn't seem to hold her in as high regards as she does the rest of her students. Maybe it's because she looks so wild all of the time. She isn't sure, but she fears this is why. The background on her school computer shows a picture of the ribbon that seems to control her life. It is silver with a drop of blood. She watches the other students out of the corner of her eye as they sit down and start up the usual morning gossip. There is a student in her class who carries himself on a pedestal for everyone to see how high and mighty he is. Her teacher insists that his mirror is telling him lies about how wonderful he is every morning. She wishes she felt that way. She is sick of knowing that she isn't first class material.

She is allowed to sit with three of her friends during second period, and she does her best to hold back everything negative thing about herself that she wants to say. She tries not to talk too much, as she has been told this is her worst fault. She watches two of her best friends talk as if they are arguing and one of them pretends to be mad. She laughs because she knows he isn't and his pretending anger makes her feel better for a little while.

The class is over before she knows what's happened, and she walks with her friend to her next class, and isn't surprised to see her normal seat surrounded by boys. She likes one of the guys who is always pretending to get on her nerves. He is pretty tall with brown hair and gray eyes, and she sometimes thinks he can tell how she feels. She doesn't wish to voice her emotions because she fears rejection, but she hopes that maybe today he will tell her what she wants to hear.

Geometry is the only class where she doesn't feel like an outside. One of her favorite teachers stands outside of the door and waves everyone in with a warm smile and sometimes a hug. The class speeds by and the seconds seem to drain as lunch nears. She always fears that one day her sugar will be too low during class and she will lose herself. She almost never voices this. She doesn't want the eyes of the class to watch her as she tests that theory.

She follows her friends to the lunch room and takes her normal seat, trying to ignore the couples all around the room who are in each other's arms. She has never been in a relationship before, and she wonders what it feels like to feel as loved as other girls are. She fears that she isn't skinny enough to be in a relationship, and she wonders how everyone sees her. She talks to the girl who sits across from her when she comes in, at least a little, but she can tell that the other girl is only half listening. Her friend from second period sits down next to her, and she says to him what she'd like to, but sometimes she fears that she has said too much to him. Her crush walks up behind her and either taps her head or grabs her shoulders, making her jump like it always does. She hopes his teasing means what she'd like it to mean.

When lunch is over, her friend will walk with her to their next class. The class passes by in a drag except for when she is talk to her friends, or poking faces at her crush. She feels the headache that always comes on half an hour after she has eaten. She tries not to be so negative and feel so bad, but the turmoil inside of her nags on and she is glad when the bell rings and her mom will come to get her. There is a senior that always sits at the top of bleachers. She kind of knows this girl, and her mom has told her that she feels sorry for her, but it is hard to feel sorry for someone who is so pretty.

She feels safe and free for the first time as home. However, she thinks her friends are tired of her being so negative. Sometimes she asks them how they would react if something bad were to happen to her. She knows this is a dreadful topic, but she can't help but wonder. She sometimes pictures what she would look like in a casket.

As the day ends, she lays in bed, staring at the stars outside of her window. She checks her blood sugar again before she goes to bed, and tried not to let her mom hear her distress at the height of the number. She will probably not be able to sleep as the nightly pain rises in her chest and she will say her prayers before she falls asleep. She will stare at the stars and think to herself 'Maybe today the Lord will take me. Maybe today I will go home.' These are her final thoughts when her day is over.

I wear a steel ID necklace around my neck and I'm always afraid that it is the first thing you see about me. My pocket is a bulge where my testing supplies stick out. I look like a mess again today, because I feel like a mess. My thick brown hair is frizzed up around my face and neck, and my clothes never seem to fit right. I am sick of feeling fragile, and I try to hold back the complaints that plant themselves on my lips. I am fifteen years old, and vulnerable is my middle name.