Insane. Defined as in a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavior, or social interaction; seriously mentally ill. I think maybe I’m insane. I’m constantly in a state of mind that prevents social interaction. My parents think I’m socially awkward. If only they knew. They’d be so disappointed in me, their failure of a daughter. I can barely speak during school, even to people who were once my friends. Not anymore. Oh sure, they still care, but I can’t. My behavior is abnormal as well. I wake up, numbly go through the motions to seem like a healthy child, not a semi-depressed one, go to school. At school, I barely talk; you hardly even know I’m there. After school, I pretend like I have a sport or some club, but really I just walk. I’ve walked all over the city by myself, something I would never have been allowed to do if my parents knew about it. If they cared. Normal perception. My perception is just fine. I think that’s the only thing that makes me sane. I’m teetering on the brink of insanity but I haven’t tipped over yet. I see that I’m not normal, I hear the concerned whispers of my parents, I’m aware of what goes on around me. I just don’t care. You see, I have to be careful. I don’t want people to think that I’m actually insane. I’m numb, yes, that’s what I am. I take everything in and don’t let it bother me. Numbness is a good place to be. Better than insanity, I think, but maybe not. I hope I never find out.