sad lives in a girls bathroom at your local high school

shirelle had lots of friends. all of them suburban, gen. pop pretty. she liked surrounding herself with pretty girls. she wasn't attracted to them but she felt that a human was a difficult creature. having friends was going to be difficult to begin with. “so they might as well be pretty” she thought. she nursed wounded egos due to promiscuous lacrosse players and vicious ex girlfriends. her friends were pretty, pretty and sad. but shirelle she was a good listener. invisible unless a problem presented itself. then there she was the good person that a pretty girl could count on. some people got used for money, power, or sex. shirelles ear drums and advice where gold. she didn’t care though. it gave her an a small bit of info on the human condition.
She realized teenagers including her self are a bunch of sociopaths. she read up on it. all the symptoms were there. what she didn’t understand is when they grew out of it. “Is it really something that goes away? are we doomed to be sedated and our feelings forever gone?” But she did not know. she was still a sociopath and had never actually felt anything. she was sick of it. she wanted to feel the emotion sad like her pretty friends whom along with their physical bodies, had the capacity for feeling and it had sprung( just like their breasts) overnight. Months flew by and the sad never came. shirelle was impatient. she tried to fake sad with an unhappy smiley face on her away message. she tried to squeeze tears out but was physically incapable. At school she tried to fake it by brooding. but no one noticed not even a “whats wrong” from a teacher surfaced.
shirelle, confused ran....through big backpacks on small kids and blue lockers to the bathroom. she looked in the mirror and a loud roar came out. she shut her mouth with her hands. she hated this sound. Then came the tears flooding her ducts with no sign of stopping.
she found it
but she wanted to give it back.

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