Happiness comes in all sorts of forms. Yet I can never seem to grasp it. I can never ever be happy again. My parent's have made me this way, I can't get away from it, and nobody seems to care.

I've got scars up and down my arms and legs. But not many people know. No one pay attention. I don't talk much, the quite type. If you'd ask people at my school who I was, they'd respond, "Who is that?" No one knows me.

People see someone dressed in all black, black fingernail polish, black clothing, black hair, and black heavy eyeliner. They just look at them and feel nothing. Just pass her, not caring.

Walking the halls, of lost hopes and dreams and not knowing what's about to happen. I roam the halls looking at the people. Many not caring. Not knowing what lies inside my coat pocket.

In an instant things become a blur, I just fired a shot. It hit the ceiling, like I planned, and then I heard screams, the stomping of people running. But there is no way out; the school has called for a lock down, crowds forming around the doors. The windows, they pound mercisly trying to get out, trying to get free.

I cock the gun again, I don't know what to do next, take my own life or take someone else's, or do both. I fire a couple of more shots at people's legs.

Never really intending to kill anyone but maybe myself. Not paying attention to me, is what caused it. I don't get attention at home; I don't get attention at school. I'm like a useless soul that the world will forget.

Seeing what little pain I've caused, I scream "MOVE" and shoot though the glass door and walk home. From a mile away you can still hear the screaming, the crying, the pleading.

My parents are home, asleep, but I've re-hidden my gun. Walking slowly up the creaking steps, I fire two shots, one in my father's head and the other to my mothers. Seeing the puddles of blood at home and school, I put the gun to my chest.

"So this is the end."

BOOM and a thud.

News headlines read "5 people shot, 3 dead."

I'm just another dead person, six feet under, in a casket, adding to the death and suicide rate.