You couldn't imagine the pain I feel, after every meal. You told me I was fat. How can I live with that? I treated you like a friend, but you were so jealous of me. Why did you want to be me? I'm nothing special and that's plain to see. No I couldn't imagine, why'd you want to be ugly ole me.

She sat up on a building so high, looking down at all the litle people. She thought of all the pain she has had in her heart. Her broken, beaten, and abused heart. She shouldn't have trusted him from the start. She looked up at the midnight sky and tried not to cry. She stood on the edge and lifted her wings to fly.

The tear falls from her eye and creates a stream down her pale face and it glistens as she looks out the window. But she isn't looking outside. She is looking beyond all of that. Looking to the distance. Looking to see where the happiness had gone, and wondering why it didn't take her with it. Wondering why the sadness stayed. Why it didn't just leave. Go where the happiness had gone and send the happy back to her. Her heart thudded in her chest and she pulled her knees up. She put her head down and tears swelled in her eyes. "Why won't the saddness go away?" She whispered, but the wind swept her words away to where the happiness lay.

She cries at night so no one can see. She bleeds in the dark to hide from her friends and family. She screams in silence so no one can hear. She covers her eyes so she can't see her fears. Her fears of being alone. Her fears of not being accepted at home. Her fears of being played a fool. Her fears of being an outcast at school. Her fears of changing in gym with all the other girls. And her fears of all of this big bad world.

Death. It’s a romantic idea, really. Quiet and mysterious. An escape. A way out. A perfect vision. Dark, yet so light. Cold, yet so warming. Gone, yet still there. Sad, yet happy. Death is an amazing dream. A simple dream really. It helps people. It brings people to remember not to take life for granted. It brings people together. Yet, it tears people apart. Because, everybody always wants someone to blame besides themselves. Or they want the attention of saying it was all their fault that they weren’t there when they should have been. It kills me.

The raised skin of the scars on her wrist catches your eye. You say that you’re sad for her. But how can you be? All you do is make fun of her. You have your entire life. Followed her with insults and hurt. Suddenly you’re sorry? After making her feel like a freak all of her life? After telling her to **** herself? Now that she is taking your advice you’re sorry? How can you be sorry of your own work? Admire you’re work, dear friend. Admire your sick work.

My heart breaks and it aches. Why can’t you see? I cry and I weep till I fall asleep. You could have saved me. You could have helped. How did you not hear my cry for help? I wanted you to see me. See me for who I was. But instead you look to the surface. The broken, messed up girl covered in scars. Why would you want me anyway, when you have her?  She is perfect and I am nothing. You gave her all of your love, but who can blame you? She is smart, beautiful, and funny. Why can’t I be like her? Why couldn’t I be someone else? Someone else or dead.

They tell me to be happy. But I'm always sad. I don't understand why. My mother thinks I've gone mad. But surely I haven't, what insane person can feel pain? I felt I had to test this theory of pain, so I took a blade to my veins. It didn't hurt, it made me feel alive and in control. Holding life and death can make a person go mad. Perhaps I am insane.

A smile for the cuts. A smile for the bruises. A smile for the people I've lost. A smile for the pain I take. If only you knew my smile was fake.

I danced around my house. Nobody was home. I danced around in the living room. I danced in the kitchen. I danced passed the drawer of knives and past the cabinet of pills. For once I wanted to know what it was like to be happy and for 5 minutes I got it.