I'm so sorry are all the things I'm sorry about. It's about all the things I want to say but just won't leave my lips. It's based on myself. All this sorrys I have in my life are just stressing me out because I know I represent all of it. It's ALL MY FAULT !!!!! Is what I believe.

You know that girl you called fat? She's been starving herself for God knows how long. You know that chick you called emo? She's been battling depression for years. You know that gal you bullied and whenever she would cry you would say "Aww is little Missy going to go cry to her mommy and daddy?" Her parents died a couple years ago and she's still grieving their death. The tiniest thing can hurt a person beyond words, but it can also shed light to a dark tunnel. This is Missy Vega's story about loss, hurt, betrayal and hope.

The utter most inner thoughts and feelings of one who has but no other way to express them and therefore without a pen a paper she very much may spontaneously combust in an explosion of secrets bottled up for far far too long. : )

I wasn't always like this. I used to be happy. I used to be the popular girl and I used to smile. But I was an entirely different person now. Life had done that to me. Every thing all happened at once. After the death of my father my life had been flipped upside down. Troy had used me and done something to me that I could never ever forget. He ruined me. I had no clue what was to happen next in my life. I had experienced love, heartbreak and death all at once. Why are all of these people so protective of me? Am I next to die after my father? Why am I always so paranoid? No one knows how my father died, or at least I don't. I know they're all hiding it from me...I just know it. I'm trying to get over it but I can't. Mother won't either. Every time I try to tell her to move on she tells me "You'll never understand love Annie." That's right, cause I won't. It's a bunch of bullshit...love is for idiots. Harry and Niall protect me like they're my bodyguards. I don't need 24 hour protection. I'm not a criminal, nor am I to be hunted down. Or so I think. I can't erase my past, and the horrible things that were done to me and forced upon me. I even keep my story a secret. I'd rather have everyone think that what they knew was the truth, than for them to know what the real truth was; simply because I didn't want it to be brought up again. I find it hard to believe that there's some light out there coming my way. And then there he came. The light of my life. I just have to try and keep him alive with me.

A child's plea to be heard.

The thoughts of a suicidal troubled teen.