"Don't blame yourself; it's not your fault." You say. I stare at you. You're not helping, you're making me feel dumb, not better.

"Just shut up." I say. I turn away from you, but I can still feel your eyes on me, piercing me, burning holes through me.

I can hear them. They're screaming at each other, but then again, what else do they ever do? I don't want to hear what they're saying, but I do, I always do. They're yelling about me, again. They're trying to figure out what to do with me, again. They're shouting that I'm worth nothing, again.

"Don't listen to them." You say from behind me. I whip around and glare at you. What do you know? You just stand there. No one notices you; you never have to go through, through this.

"How can I not listen to them?" I demand. "It's impossible."

You nod, slowly, but you still do nod. "Just don't think that what they're saying is true, because, it's not. Never think that."

"Shut up." I scream at you. "What do you know? You're just a reflection of me, you copy everything I do. How do you know it's not my fault?"

You're hurt, I can tell, but I don't care. I continue screaming at you. "Of course it's my fault. Before I started doing the things I do, everything was happy. Everyone was happy, except me. Now I try and tell them that, and everything goes to hell. It's my entire fault." I collapse, my face in my hands.

You try and say something, but I don't want to hear it. I pick up a CD case, because music always solves everything.

I throw it at you. The glass shatters, and you're gone.