Hi. I'm Kit. You might know me and my co-writer Violet from our Hellboy fics, or maybe not.

This is my first foray into Naruto fanfiction, and this definitely isn't the story I thought I'd be posting. I have several other Naruto stories that I've started working on, but I was catching up on reading Naruto. I just finished the twentieth book and I started thinking about Sakura.

I never really liked Sakura. She was never one of my favorite characters. But I'm in a fairly dark place right now and started wondering how it must feel to be left in the dust as your teammates exploded with success. So I wrote this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my twisted thoughts.

Warnings: Allusions to suicide, but nothing graphic. Maybe a little swearing.


You won't miss me.

I'm not trying to be pathetic. I'm not fishing for compliments, or for reassurances. There was a time for that, but it's now long gone. I'm just being honest. I, Haruno Sakura, will not be missed.

It took a long time for me to come to this decision—almost as long as it took me to finally grow up. Or maybe I haven't. I'll be eternally stuck here, while you all move on.

Who's reading this, I wonder? Naruto? Maybe. You probably came looking for me after I walked out of Tsunade-sama's office. Lee? You're still in the hospital, I hope. Kakashi-sensei? I doubt it. You have your hands full with Sasuke.

Sasuke? Why would you bother?

Why would any of you, really? Let's be honest, I was a drag, wasn't I? I'm always the one you had to protect. The one that was never really good at anything—and we can all agree that I was never good at anything.

But wait, you argue, aren't you smart?

How far has that gotten me? The first test of the Chuunin Exams? Where did being smart come into play when Orochimaru came for Sasuke? Or when Gaara attacked?

But aren't you strong?

Strong enough to what? To throw a kunai? To weave a sign? So are you.

How about the way you can control your chakra?

Please. Control doesn't matter when my two teammates can crumple solid steel water towers with uncontrolled rage.

Or maybe you're not asking any of this at all. Maybe you just don't care. And I'm not saying that for your pity. I'm not saying that to steep you in guilt. I don't even care anymore.

You don't need me anymore. Sitting here, it makes me wonder if you ever needed me at all. And please, don't waste air at my funeral telling everyone how helpful and wonderful I was. No one will buy it. Will there even be a funeral? Will you even find my body? Will there be any of it left?

Please don't blame Gaara. Kiba once told me about his sand coffin—Gaara himself said that it was painless. I'll attack him in the dead of night, and he'll have every right to kill me. Thank him for me, for doing what I wasn't strong enough to do myself. I'd thought long and hard about how I was going to kill myself. I didn't want someone to walk in on my body swinging from the rafters. I didn't want to spoil a kunai. And contrary to popular belief, death by pills actually kills you by suffocating you with your vomit. I don't want any more pain.

Did any of you notice? Sasuke, did you finally see that I'd stopped chasing you? Lee, did you finally see that I wasn't brushing you off? Ino, did you see that I'd stopped calling you my rival? You won, by the way. You've beaten me simply by sticking around. By living.

Or maybe I win. Maybe I'm the one that's finally free. Free from judgment. Free from failure. Free from comparisons. Comparisons hurt the most. Haven't we all done that? I certainly have. That I'm not as smart as Sasuke, that I'm not as strong as Naruto, that I'm not as pretty as Ino, or as clever as Kakashi-sensei, or as dedicated as Lee. Did you ever do that to me? Have you ever looked at me and wished I wasn't so weak, because I have.

I always knew Sasuke was better than me, but it bites when even Naruto surpassed me. No offense, Naruto.

It bites, being the one that's overlooked. Which is selfish, I suppose—offing myself because I wasn't the special one anymore. Oh, wow. It hadn't really sunken in until now. Tomorrow, you're still going to be here...and I'm not.

Although I guess I'm ignoring the elephant in the room—have any of you even seen an elephant? I haven't—and it's why. Why, Sakura? Why did you do it? Why did you kill yourself? Why didn't you talk to any of us? Why didn't you let us help you?

Why should I?

Am I supposed to honestly believe that you would drop everything you were doing to hear me out? That you wouldn't judge me and call me weak because I couldn't handle the pressure of being a shinobi? That's bullshit, and we all know it.

I couldn't handle the pressure of not being a shinobi, actually. I couldn't handle being superfluous. Being overlooked and dropped. Here I was, thinking I had just as much of a right to wear that headband as you.

Guess I was wrong. Guess I wasn't strong enough, or smart enough, or fast enough, or powerful enough to warrant your attention.

So the reason you're reading this is because I wanted to finally prove to myself that I am, in fact, your equal. Because even if I didn't do it myself, I did the one thing that you, Sasuke, and you, Naruto, could never do.

I looked death in the eye and went with him because I chose to.

P.S. Shikamaru, I'm sorry you couldn't save me. But thank you for taking me seriously enough to try.


I might do a second chapter. Prolly not. Depends on the reviewers.

Kit