Story cover for Torn by BreiannaWorrell
Torn
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Ongoing, First published Nov 04, 2014
Everyday in middle school, people would make fun of me,
And I'd feel like a fool. They said perfection is the norm, but.. Why couldn't I fit in? I wanted to feel cool and wanted but every time I tried, I kept getting taunted. So I would hide in my room and cry and cry. And when my parents asked if I was okay. Of course, I would lie. I was falling apart. It felt like a dart to my heart. The kids didn't understand how much it hurt, pushed in the dirt and just left there. I'm so torn
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The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club by graciegreat
21 parts Complete Mature
Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.
A Look Inside My Head by 1MadHatterLove1
52 parts Complete
It started on a Monday. I don't know what happened after that. I started off normal. I was still normal, wasn't I? I don't know, I just don't know. I was happy, I should be happy, but I'm not. Maybe I am? It's like there's a blackness in my mind, and I've covered it with yellow. I hate the colour yellow, but it's what I am. It's all I am now. My friends were laughing, I was laughing, but it didn't feel like it. My face felt tight as I stretched into a smile, yet it fooled them. I shouted with them, tears coming to my eyes. They laughed harder at that, everyone crying out my name, pointing at me, tears coming to their own eyes. The hole in my heart widened. I didn't know whether they were tears of sadness or happiness. Everyone was rocking back and forth, and slowly, they seemed to form into looming monsters, with wide eyes and pale faces. We stood up, hearing the bell. The sun hurt my eyes. I ran after them, shouting with them. I was loud, too loud. My own voice hurt my head. I didn't want the attention on me, so I dragged it to my fake self; my mask. I hated myself, and what I was doing. I had walked off again. I'm not sure why, but as I blinked, my feet decided that we were not going that way. I ignored them, and they thought it was a joke. They screamed my name, startling me, making me sprint over to them. I hadn't realised how far I had really wondered off. I joined my group, only to wish I had kept walking. They were laughing again, their laughter hurting my head. It shattered my thoughts, echoed around my head, deafened any emotions. I shrieked with them. We were like monkeys, chattering together. Maybe not; we were too dangerous for that. Monsters. Pale, looming monsters. (Updates everyday day!!!) (Oh, and the picture on the title page doesn't belong to me!!! Credit to whoever it belongs to!!!)
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The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club

21 parts Complete Mature

Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.