Personal I turn my back for a breif second to listen to the speaker, and as I look away, my personal notebook is thrown into the wrong hands. He looks through it, then draws in it. He throws it back. I turn back around and I see it has been moved. I glare at the boy who tossed it and I look to see what has been drawn in it. Tears well in my eyes and I yell at the boy. I want to die. No one can leave me be. Why? Just kill me.
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