It was a warm, bright, sunny day that morning as I walked to catch the bus. Thoughts were whirling around in my head, all dark and dim, but a smile was plastered on my face. The silent thoughts of wishing that I didn’t have to be here ran through my head the whole way up there. As I stepped on the bus everything seemed to stop and go into slow motion. Staring and whispers were all I could grasp. I sat in my seat and felt as though I was a million miles away watching my body react to the situation. The bus stopped, people got off then I was all alone again with just the bus driver. “Nice day, huh?” She said, I didn’t really hear her, so I nodded my head. As I was stepping off the bus the rain began to pour down. “Why me?” I thought. With my hood pulled up and face staring down I trudged along the cold, wet, rainy road. I finally made it inside and pushed the doors open hot, muggy air poured over my rain-soaked body. I could feel the eyes of the people staring at me as I walked to the library. I was searching for a refuge of books that I could lose myself in and forget about my problems. The bell rang and it was time for class. This meant that it was also time for people and time for pain. But that is part of everyday life, right? At least that’s what I think and that’s what I hear. So why do I wish that I don’t feel anymore? All I can feel is guilt for making people feel bad for me when I don’t even want them to. I sit in my seat with other people piled in around me. I smile like I care. “Hey how are you?” they all asked, but I know they don’t really want to know, they just ask to be nice, “Peachy, good, fine” I lie, like I do everyday, but today was going to be different; I wasn’t going to take it any more. There’s another bell, another class and more people. “Can I go to the bathroom?” I asked quietly as I walked out the door, to escape all the people. Once in the bathroom the tears began to fall. I couldn’t stop them, even if I tried to. All the pain I had held in for so long finally made its way out. The bell rang again so I pulled myself together, wiped away my tears and grabbed my books. I walked to the mirror to check for mascara running down my cheeks, wiped my face with a paper towel and walked to my next class. “You’re late!” she stated. Embarrassed, I settled into my seat and began to type my poems. I’m supposed to do work, but when I’m feeling like this, the only way I can get it out of my system is to write. Today I wrote because the hurt was too great and the pain was too real and kept clawing at my soul. People can try to talk to me but when I write, I don’t listen, I just write. The bell rang for lunch, but I didn’t eat, I didn’t need to. As everyone else was eating lunch and making jokes, I carried my body and my pencil to the door. I went outside and sat as the tears fell silently from my face again, leaving wet droplets on my shirt. My body filled with terror as I realized what I was about to do, but I knew I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t before. I scraped my wrist with all I had in me, but I heard footsteps, so I stopped. Once they disappeared I continued, scraping harder. It would all be over soon. Blood began to flow as the stress and pain was flowed out of my body. Suddenly terror like I’d never known before terror took over my body. I had cut myself before but I had never seen this much blood. It was like a stream, flowing. I was mesmerized yet stricken by its colour, the darkest red you had ever seen, like royalty. I realized that I had made the biggest mistake anyone could make. I stood to my feet and the blood gushed down my arm. I rushed myself to the bathroom. Everyone was starring at me but no one made any attempt to ask what was wrong. They didn’t know what was going on but they could sense that I was scared. As I entered the bathroom I made that sure no one was there as I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. I didn’t want to go home with the guilt of knowing someone felt sorry for me. I hated sympathy. I was filled with relief poured over me as I tried to stop the bleeding with a rag. The bell rang again and by this stage everything had stopped inside me. My feelings had turned off like a switch. It’s a bad habit. I can’t talk about it because no one can know. I walked out the bathroom with a smile on my face and with terror stirring in my heart. No one knows that anything happened. They never know, but I can try again. Everyone talks to me, when they ask, “What’s wrong?” and I tell them “nothing” they forget about me and go on with their business. They say that they are my real friends but if you really loved someone, wouldn’t you push for them to talk? The last bell rings and I can finally go home. It’s not like home is much better but at least I can’t try to hurt myself at home because they all know about it and I can’t be alone. I go through the process of going home, get off the bus, walk home and think about everything.It is more than I can take. Why can’t I be dead? I scream. I thought that I had said it aloud but obviously not since no one reacted but then again, no one hears this little voice. Making my way home, all I could think about was being gone. I crawled into bed, thinking no one cared, knowing that tomorrow is another day. ~ That happened awhile ago