..'It's just...' you start, unsure as if to continue, 'it's just that it's so different to the ones in the books at school' you add, staring at the fl...or... red faced.'Different?... why different?' I ask, 'I can assure you I'm no freak of nature' I laugh, trying to inject a humorous tone into a conversation you appear to be uneasy with.'I don't know... it's hard to explain... but the ones in books always look as if they're in two pieces... like a stalk with a head, not like...' Your eyes. ..Then I wake up, crying.I dont know what to do about this.I dont know who I can talk to.I know dreams aren't real, but it comes from somewhere, but where?And its not just the dream. Sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror, andI look .... wrong, somehow. I look and I half-expect to see the girl frommy dream looking back at me.And the fact she doesn't is a grief I cant even begin to describe ....I've got to pull myself together, shake this off somehow.I wish I had someone to talk to about. More

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