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There's this little girl inside me. She's the same girl who wore the blue taffeta dress to the 8th grade dance. Who stood against the wall watching him sway awkwardly from side to side with Angie. Wishing she was Angie. But instead being invisible.

There's this little girl inside me. She's the same girl who watched the boy smoking a cigarette at the gas station. Watched him until the image burned into her brain. But he never knew she was alive. She was invisible.

There's this little girl inside me. She's the same girl who pretended she didn't feel Kim tap her thumb during "Heads Up, Seven Up" because she knew Kim only did it to make fun of her. And it was less painful to pretend she didn't feel it. Less painful to be... invisible.

There's this little girl inside me. She's the same girl who sat reading a book while her homeroom voted her student council representative. And when she realized, she wondered if it were only because they didn't want her around. Even if she was invisible.

There's this little girl inside me. She's screaming for someone to notice. She's screaming for someone to love her. She's screaming for someone to see her. She's screaming in vain. She'll always be invisible.