TrappedA melancholy melody replays in her head filling her chaotic, misplaced thoughts with a constant sorrow that won't go away even though the background of where she was sitting was full of blaring upbeat techno music. She looks down towards the empty notebook on her lap. Her long golden curls fall forward as she's bent over in thought, and she forcefully throws them back over her shoulder with a quick flick of both her wrists. She had always had a strong dislike for always being done-up and glamorous. It wasn't just a strong dislike, it was utter hatred.But, the notebook still sits calmly while her mind continues to wonder into oblivion-into t