I look up slowly from my homework, brain buzzing, and see her over there, looking the same but acting different. Something about the way she holds herself, the way she walks and talks, just seems different - unnatural even. She glances at me, flips her hair back with a cold smile of expertise, then turns back to her friends, smiling like she just hadn't looked at her ex-best friend. I raise my hand and ask to use the restroom. I stuff my hands in my pockets and ignore the angry stare she gives me - cruel, like daggers piercing my skin.

My footsteps echo on the stone floor as I silently close the door behind me. Door after door, window after window of people who are happy, who love their lives, how actually have something other than a rockstar crush to look forward too. Oh, they may not be happy right now - because of the homework - but they are generally happy. They don't go home and do things I do.

My hands are shoved in my pockets, and I almost have to hold myself down from running away from my life. But like the saying goes...you can run, but you can't hide. Besides, it's not like I can lie to you and run away from my problems - because they follow me wherever I go, like an over-enthusiastically loving puppy who won't stop tripping you with its shaggy ears.

It's sad how much she's changed. It's amazing what happens over the course of one single school year. I open the wooden door to the bathroom and close it, then open a stall door and lock it. I'm tired of running - tired of everything. My energy seems to slip away, like water I try to hold in my hands, trying not to let it leak through and fall with a splash on the floor...but it fails, and it drops. I lean against the cool tile wall and think - why is she this way? People change, yes, but I've never seen someone change this dramatically in such a small time period. It takes all my strength to keep my hands in my pockets and not bang my head against the wall in agony, in pure frustration.

The wall feels cool against my burning face as I think to the beginning of the year...we had been so close...and then three cars collided with a smash that shook our worlds and changed our lives forever. Now they're a perfect pair, acting as if they own the world. They walk on fragile glass heels that could shatter any moment. I walk on a piece of stone, cold and hard, with sharp corners that jab into my feet every time I take a step. Wincing, I feel like I can't go on, but I must....

Why is she like this? Doesn't she realize that it isn't her real self, the one we love more than anyone else? No, she doesn't...she is blinded, completely blinded, after others threw that cover over her head, turning her vision black and blurred as night, and convinced her to wear the mask of cruelty, the mask of change, that hid your true emotions. I suppose I didn't really matter that much to her if she changed that drastically.

But all that's left is a simple shell of that sweet, wonderful girl we used to know and love, who would never let us down - ever. She is now different, loving only who her friends want her to love, and hating who her friends hate - not relying one bit on her true source of emotions - the heart pulsing and beating inside of her. She's just a ghost, living in a shell of her former life...the life that she no longer knows or cares about.

As I wipe the tears from my eyes, I wonder...what happened?