I'm Not Who Everyone Thinks I Am

Dinnertime.
What do I eat?
Where do I sit?
Who do I talk to?

Guess I better go find some food.
A salad and a water.
Looks better then the food I get at home.

Lots of tables.
Which one do I sit at?

I guess I'll head for the empty one.
Everyone's staring at me.
I guess there hasn't been a new kind in a while.

Now I'm sitting, and some blonde chick is coming to talk to me.
Oh god, what do I say?

Hey newbie.
What's your name?
Newbie?
Really?

Uh... Madison.
Madison Johnson.
I don't know why I lied.
I just can't admit to myself, or anyone else, that I'm really here.

Cool.
I'm Rafaella.
So what are you in for?
Me and all my friends are here for eating disorders.
Okay... good to know.
And I don't really want to tell you what I'm here for.

Self-harm; I guess that's what they call it.
Why does she look so disgusted?

Ew!
With like, blood and stuff?
Gross.
I guess I'm not making a good first impression.

Now there's an awkward silence, because I'm sure as hell not going to respond to that.
She's just looking around, and back at her table.
If you want to leave, go ahead.

Well, I'm going back to my table now.
Bye.
Wow.
Interesting girl.
But by interesting, I mean BITCH.

Good to know...
Even in rehab,

I am unpopular.