I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, knowing that this could very well be the last time I had a chance to do so. I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t care about her, because I knew for a fact that I did. But the thing was…

Out of all the people I knew, she was the only one who would care. The only one that when I made up a list of my friends, that I couldn’t come up with a reason or a way, that she’d get over it.

What was I supposed to do? No one cared.

My girlfriend: she barely ever talked to me, and wouldn’t ever notice if I disappeared. Maybe when she saw the letter I’d left her saying how sorry I was, but no earlier. That was only because, I’d invited her to the “party” today, and she’d said she couldn’t come. Somehow I figured she probably could, but just didn’t want to, and for some reason, that didn’t bother me.

Her best friend: all she’d ever cared about, was herself. If someone else was dying in front of her, she’d want people to be trying to cheer her up.

My two best friends: who now both have boyfriends who have taken any semblance of a place I held in their lives. All I ever did for them, was listen when they were upset, and now I can’t even do that for them.

Their boyfriends: two of the only boys I ever cared truly about. One of them I loved, and he never even saw it. Because why would he? There was no reason to think I would. I was just his best friend for eight years…almost nine now. And the other…this is almost entirely his fault. He always told me to shut up. He always asked me why I speak. He always smacked me when I did what made me happy. Well now I’m doing something that makes me happy, that he can’t smack me for.

Let me tell you guys, this is what happens when you don’t pay attention. When you treat someone like a dog, or a therapist. When you just kick them, shove them around, and expect them to come back and help you out again. When you dump every problem you’ve ever had on them, and then force them to bottle everything up, because you won’t listen to them. Because it doesn’t matter to you. Because it’s not technically your problem, so why should you care?

How can you expect me to just take this? I mean really. I know that suicide is like quitting, it’s the easy way out. But now, I really don’t care anymore. I can’t take the pain you all cause me. I can’t take this hurt anymore, it’s tearing me up inside. Well here I go.

I walked out of the room, smiling broadly at her and heading outside to where everyone else was waiting.

I was going to show them all exactly how much they tore me up inside, by tearing myself up on the outside. Maybe that would prove to them, exactly what self-pity and narcissism does.

But then, she ran up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and knocked the razor I’d pulled out of my pocket, out of my hand. None of them even had the chance to see it. “Don’t you dare,” she muttered into my back. “You promised me.”

I turned around to face her, and I looked down at her tearstained face. Then I knew I couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to, or how much it hurt to stay. Because if I died, I’d kill her, too.

And at that moment, I learned the hard way, that dying is easy. Dying is, always has been, and always will be, the easy way out. But killing is much, much harder.

There was no way, that I would take away the one person who listened to her. There was no way I would take away the one person she truly cared about. There was no way I would kill her like that. Not a chance in hell.

I may be a killer, but I’m not a murderer.