When I was in high school, I knew a girl named Laura. Laura was a quiet, soft spoken, shy girl, with not very many friends. You know, the kind that kept to herself, and often went unnoticed. When in a group, she usually lingered near the edge of the crowd, and didn't say much. She never threw a fit, or caused a ruckus. Was never sad or depressed. She was always just.. there. I guess she went ignored quite a bit, and I regret to admit that I ignored her sometimes too.   Once when a group of us girls came over to her house to work on a school project (her house was easiest for everyone to get to), I happened to notice something rather curious. In her room, on the top shelf of a large bookcase, was a jar. It was a pretty ordinary black-lidded glass jar, except for the fact that it was impossible to see what was in it. This may not make sense to you, but however way you looked at it, you just couldn't see through it, even though it was glass. Another strange thing was that it had a lock. Now what jar have you ever seen that has a lock on it? When I asked her about it, an odd look came over her, something like a melancholy uneasiness. Only for a second though, then she laughed, shrugged, and said.  "That? It's only a jar."  "Why is it there?" I persisted.  she shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It just got left there somehow I guess. Would anyone like lemonade?"  With that, she changed the subject, and I, a little unwillingly, let it drop.  I soon forgot about it though, and life went on as usual.  Life went on almost as usual with Laura as well, but her usual was much different than mine.   Some months later, I decided to drop by her house to see how she was doing. Summer vacation was already nearly three weeks old, and I hadn't heard from her since school ended. I guess I felt a little sorry for her. I knew she wasn't popular, and was probably bored alone at home. As a strolled up the cracked cement sidewalk, Laura's mom pulled out of the driveway in her rusty brown car. I waved to her.   "Hi Mrs. Weibe! Is Laura home?"  She rolled down the window and smiled. "Yes, you can go on in."  I mounted the steps onto the small covered porch, and turned the doorknob. The door creaked open. Slipping off my shoes, I walked into the kitchen and looked around.   "Laura?" A piece of paper on the counter caught my eye. It had a picture of an elderly lady on it.  "We mourn the passing of Linda May Browning..."  Laura's grandma.   "Oh poor dear.. I didn't know." I whispered to myself.  I stepped into the living room. It was uncommonly quiet. I could hear two uncoordinated clocks ticking at contrasting times, and it was driving me batty. "Laura?" silence. "It's me.. Nicole." I slowly climbed the stairs, then suddenly, stopped and listened hard. Yes, I definitely heard something. What was it? Crying? Something was wrong, I knew it. I started upstairs again, faster now. "Laura?.. Laura!" Her bedroom door was shut, and I could hear someone sobbing inside. I knocked loudly, my heart pounding in my chest. "Laura! It's me, Nicole! "   Hearing no answer, I thrust open the door, and gasped.  There was Laura, in a heap on the floor, crying her heart out, and surrounded by shards of glass.  "What happened? What's wrong?!" I cried, rushing to her, while trying to avoid stepping on glass.  For some time she couldn't answer. When you're crying that hard you can't even think, much less talk. So I just put my arm around her and let her cry.  After some time, she managed to explain through her gradually subsiding tears, what had happened.  You see, whenever Laura was sad, angry, frustrated, or depressed, she didn't let it out. She put it in a jar. The jar I had seen on the shelf. She didn't really have any close friends, and she didn't feel like she could talk to anyone. When her grandma, who was her only close friend, died, it was just too much for her. She was just so lonely, and she dealt with it by ignoring it.  But ignoring it can't last forever... no indeed. Eventually, there were so many emotions locked away in that jar, that it just burst, and everything came pouring out. That's where I found her. Crying out all the emotions that she had bottled away.   I wish I could tell you that everything went better for Laura after that, but I really can't. Her dad got a new job, and they moved suddenly a week after I found her with the broken jar. I haven't heard from her since.