She walks down their crowded hallways with her shoulders hunched forward and her eyes tracing the patterns on the tiles. They are forever telling her that she ought to mind her own business, fix her own problems, worry about her own broken life but she’s addicted to their troubles. How many lives can she fix before she realizes they aren’t worth the effort?

Every morning she wakes up and before she’s even dressed, she has their problems on her mind. She eats breakfast to thoughts of their fighting parents and their failing grades. She drives to school listening to the sounds of their tears and their sighs. The lines in the parking-lot only serve as demarcations to keep everyone’s worries straight but her own.

If she can bury herself in her worries for them, she won’t have to worry for herself.


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