How It Feels

I walk down the halls. All eyes turn. A few people laugh, but others just glare.
Don't they realize that I can hear them? That I can see them?
They are hateful. They have no life.

They do not know about what really happened.
They do not care. She never stole that CD and phone. She was framed.
They did this to her, and now they are blaming me.
Someone died because of what they did,
And I have suffered for it.

I call my friend that evening. I have locked myself in my room so my mom won't see the tears.
My friend will not listen. She is mad too. "Why don't you just die?" She yells. I whisper this as tears fall down my face,
"You cannot die after you have sacrificed your life for a friend's. I did this to save you."

As I lay my head on the pillow, blackness swirls all around.