Angie sat alone in her room a lot. With some music playing and the lights off, she'd ponder the many meanings of life. She didn't know why she felt compulsed to do this, it was just what she did.

Angie was a fairly active girl. She maintained decent grades, played soccer, and tended to a demanding social agenda. She was, by all accounts, a perfectly normal sixteen year old.

But she still felt alone. She was haunted by the thoughts that danced around in her head. Her friends didn't want her, her family didn't need her, no one would love her. That's why she always found herself in the dark; the light shed the truth on everything and if she saw it her world would come crashing down. She replayed the day in her head.

Angie left her house that morning without her family glancing from their picture perfect breakfast to say goodbye. Her younger brother was displaying a paper mache volcano to a beaming mother serving eggs and cereal. She handed a cup of coffee to her husband who peeped out from behind his Wall Street Journal to give his wife a wink and ruffle his son's hair. Angie disappeared without a word. As she pushed the key into the ignition of her car she thought, "If I died today they wouldn't have said anything to me. No last words. No I love you. No goodbye." This thought often wound its way into Angie's mind as she left her home silently each day. She couldn't see a place for herself in her own family. When she was with them she was like the observer of a natural happy life; and when she wasn't with them they lived much more comfortably. She didn't feel this way all the time but when she did it grabbed on and wouldn't let go until she felt totally useless.

Angie fidgeted in the dark of her room. All of the sudden she felt incredibly cold. Goosebumps broke out over her body, the hair on her arms stood on end. She ducked under the covers to her bed, flashing forward to the school day.

Angie was mildly amused to see her friends at lunch in the school cafeteria. They sat in their usual seats at their usual table and dug into their usual lunches. As they started to bite into sandwiched and leftovers from family dinners they gossiped idly about the comings and goings of the school. Who was dating who, what tests were hard, who they didn't like, why they were having an all school assembly.

Angie kept quiet during the conversation, preferring to watch her peers in their natural habitat. She looked from one friend to another, studying them intently. "They're so stupid," she thought, "So vapid, so shallow. I can't even believe they're still alive and breathing." When Angie realized she had remained silent for too long she made sure to loudly contribute to the conversation and overact her laugh to the point of being obnoxious just so they wouldn't see how angry she was on the inside. They didn't need to know how useless she thought they were and they didn't need to know how lonely she felt sitting with them so she threw on a happy grin, slapped one of her friends on the back, and continued to eat her lunch.

As Angie reflected upon her behavior she realized how utterly fake she felt. And she couldn't remember what it was like to be happy. She knew how to fake being happy in the moment, but when she thought to herself all alone later on she no longer believed the act. She felt hopeless, like she'd never be happy again. Her body was heavy. The air was pressing her onto her bed so hard she could barely breathe. She couldn't stand who she was but she saw no way to fix it. She turned over on her side praying to sleep until this feeling passed. Until she didn't need to act anymore, until she felt needed again, until she felt happy. She never woke up.