Wound up and curled into the letter C, my body folds in on itself, doubles over as if to see its own imprint pressed firmly onto itself. Wormed up on a cold metal chair that says retard in white-out on the back while other kids pick crusts off peanut butter sandwiches and make unrecognizable noises that together form crowd, I seep out from the insides and the blinds close in on me like dream-state.