Two steps behind her, I say her name. "Skye.

But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.

We all know the sound a camera makes when it snaps a picture. Even some of the digitals do it for nostalgia’s sake.

I could picture life—school and everything else—continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine who would attend or what they would say.

Because our lies matched. It was a sign.

That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.

But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.