Is there something on my face?
Did that ketchup get on my shirt?
Maybe my make-up is smeared?
 There’s nothing on my face or shirt.
My make-up and hair are in place.
 Heat reaches the surface.
 Keep you’re head down.
 I can still feel the laser beams from the stares of their eyes.
 “Is she okay?” I’m fine.
“She probably doesn’t have any friends” I do so!
“Maybe she failed a test” No, actually I’m passing… shockingly.
 Wait… I’m talking to myself.
Can people see that I’m talking to myself?
 Wait… this is inside my head.
 Maybe I’ll look up now.
 Abort Mission, abort mission!
Blue, green, brown, red… my face.
I look like a mom on her morning speed walk.
 Great, now I look like those kids who run across campus.
 Crap, now people know that I know that they are looking at me.
 Crap now I look insane!
 I’m gonna run into someone I just know it.
I’m wearing a bright yellow shirt.
It just screams, “Look at me!”
Yellow isn’t even a good color on me.
 The door’s right there.
 Here come’s that one girl I know.
That was a solid 3 seconds of eye contact.