She looks at people, wondering how they are, where they're going. She looks at the famous people she loves, smiling, because she's so happy for them, crying, because she'll probably never meet them. She looks to the stars, wondering why she can't see the angels flying around them. She sits in class, saying noting, writing stuff down. She opens a book, the way to a paradise. She listens to music, another way to the paradise. She looks at the world, sees the nature, wanting to live somewhere with lots of flowers. She stands with some people, too afraid to say something. She types this story down, asking herself this question: 'why am I me?'