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I have an unending relationship with hospitals. Funny, right? This is what I tell people when they ask me about my latest trip from the institution. That doesn’t sound right. You’re probably thinking I’m a lunatic or something. Let me relieve you from that burden of thinking. Alas! I am not insane, in the literal way. Ha ha. Am I amusing you? Or do you not find my sense of humor funny? Well, I think I’m funny. I was born to be funny. Making people laugh is one of the greatest pleasures that I take for myself. Kidding, I don’t actually do that. Thinking is what I do best. Can’t you tell? I’m talking to you through my mind right now. I’m going to let you in on one of the things that gets my mind thinking into overload. The question of death. I don’t know why but this always gets my attention these days. Maybe it’s a sign. Nope, morbid thought. Sorry about that. Anyway, I am having the best day today, I just got discharged from the hospital, I’m going home, and I’ll be seeing my friends soon. The best, right? Not. Getting discharged is not a good thing. You would say that it is but home and friends are not good for me. They’re bad. And by bad, I mean really bad. First of all, I don’t actually have a home. Well, if you call home-for-the-abandoned-and-slightly-crazy-children a home, then yes, I have one. I’m an orphan, you see. As for friends, well, I don’t have them. Friends are overrated anyway, and a lot of burden if you ask me. I have acquaintances and company from time to time, just to keep me occupied and entertained throughout the day, but they’re not really my friends.

You may be wondering whether I’m a girl or a boy, by now. To get you out of your misery, I am a girl. A sixteen-year-old teenage girl. My name is Trinity Price. You can call me Trin. That’s what the people from the orphanage call me.