I wish it would just all go away.

It hurts more and more everyday.

They think I don't hear; they think I don't listen.

I listen and hear perfectly.

"I want a girl who has boobs bigger than her rolls."

I watch them as their eyes flicker to me. I look back at Casey.

They don't see, they don't listen and they just speak.

I come home that night. That phase stuck in my mind.

It fills me with pain.

Are guys that shallow?

Do they only judge people by their looks?

I get into a fight with my sister; she hits, kicks and screams at me.

I feel awful. I just want it all to go away.

My sister runs to the lounge and I'm stuck in the kitchen; broken and defeated.

I see the knife on the sink. It lies there innocently.

I used it to cut the oranges for the afternoon tea.

I pick it up. I examine it. I place it back down.

I can't; I'm stronger then that.

My sister comes back in; we get into a fight again.

It's déjà vu.

She leaves the kitchen and I stay, broken and defeated again.

The knife lies on the sink.

I can't help it. I have no control over anything anymore.

I swipe it gently over my wrists so it leaves a slight scratch.

No blood comes out; I don't want to try it anymore.

I run to the bathroom sniffling and tears flowing down my cheeks.

I glance at the mirror and the mirror looks back at me.

Everything hurts and I rest my head on the counter, slowly I fall to my knees sobbing and wailing.

I keep taking and taking, absorbing the pain and now I'm actually feeling it.

I want someone to talk to but I'm scared, I'm very scared.

I think about my group of friends, one face sticks in my mind.

I think about it but I decide no.

I will save them pain. I will save myself any more pain.

I don't think I can absorb any more pain.

The door swings ajar, I can hear my sister's voice float from the lounge.

My wrist starts to throb a bit and it feels raw.

I lean back against the bathtub, my feet against the wall.

The bathroom is small. I kick the door shut.

It doesn't stay shut and I start to feel frustrated and angry.

Stay closed! Please, stay closed!

I sob even more and I can hear the front door open, then shut.

I freeze, listening intently.

Mom is home.

I turn off the bathroom lights and wipe my eyes; they are still red and puffy.

I walk past my mom to the sunroom; I leave the lights off so she can't see me very well.

I lay on the couch, wiping tear traces away from my cheeks.

She asks how my day is, I think horrible but my quiet voice replies with a fine.

Anything interesting happen? She queries. I reply with a no.

We don't talk anymore and Mom goes back to making dinner.

After composing my self for a few minutes I power walk out of the sunroom and through the kitchen to the study.

I remain there for a few minutes, silently crying.

Everything over the last couple of weeks has built up to this moment.

Why? Why must life test me so?

Haven't I all ready endured enough pain?

Alas, it was not to be and neither was me.

So I changed.

I wrote this on a day I was feeling really depressed and a guy actually said that line about one of my friends. We hate that guy now.

I have a plot working in my head and I'm going to keep this to about 10-12 chapters. Or hopefully I will...

Any constructive critiscm is welcomed and the title does tie in with the story, I promise.