I run away from every problem or severed relationship.

I laughed, and scooted onto the cold metal table top. "Wow,everyone here is so nice," I said, eyes trained outward, towards the small school I was starting to love.
"Nice?" they all asked, almost in unison. " They aren't nice. I hate this school. It's so small." I thought about that for a bit, as the rest of the group carried on with their previous conversation. And that's when it dawned on me. They've been here for 8 years. 8 years with the same 200 people. The same 200 people that taunted, teased, tortured them. It was a fresh start for me, but they were stuck in the same old routine. And as they continued to talk, I realized I wasn't one of them. They didn't know me, and I didn't know them. They have no clue what happened 2 years ago, or all the whispers and laughs that still hurt from almost 8 months ago. I don't know what may have happened in elelmentary school. Or when this hatred of this quaint place started. They don't see my scars. I don't see theirs.