Is Anyone Out There?

Prologue

How many times do people smile to me in the hallways at school? Zero. How many times do people ask me how I am doing? Zip. How many times do people even spare a look at me? A couple times, but only to make fun of how I look, or dress, or act, or how little friends I have (that would be none).

I'm over it. Completely over it. If someone would just say hello to me, or ask me what's wrong, maybe I wouldn't be letting this happen. Maybe I wouldn't have this constant thought running through my mind. Maybe I wouldn't be doing this. Maybe, just maybe, I would stop what I'm doing.

I take one last glance at myself in the mirror. Black hair that falls to my mid-back, light brown eyes filled with sorrow and pain, a sharp chin and high cheekbones. I touch my face with my hand softly trailing my fingers down the contours of it. A tear falls down my cheek, following the path of my fingers.

I open the cabinet and take the bottle out. I unscrew the top, my hands are shaking now. I pour some of the blue capsules into my hand and then throw them into my mouth. I take a cup and swallow the pills down with some water.

I put one foot into the tub, and then the other. I slowly crouch down until I am sitting in it with water all around me. I lay back and close my eyes, slipping under the water. I take my last breath and then go completely under.

I sit and I wait, counting the seconds that go by in my head. I'm over it. Over all of the brokenness, the scars, the teasing, taunting, ignoring, hitting, abusing, and tears wasted over everyone who has ever done something to me.

Over it.