There are some moments in my life I just don't know myself.

My vision blurs as I stare into the unforgiving mirror and I force myself to turn away, my chest heaving.

And you don't help at all.

I sink down onto my knees and bury my face in my hands. I can feel the tears filling up my eyes.

I know that I'm changing. And that it may not be all good.

I fall to the ground easily, shaking with heart-wrenching sobs.

But I never got the taste of popularity before. I had friends, and I was happy, even though we had all those problems.

An acute pang of pain hits my chest and I curl up into ball, tears streaming down my face.

So when I got here, I made new friends. Nothing like me. I like them, but why do I feel like I'm betraying you?

My body stops shaking and I lie there, my eyes squeezed shut, praying, hoping, wishing that the world disappears.

I have so many friends, and I'm obsessed. This feeling, it's like a high.

My breathing slows down, and I sit up slowly.

You always say that I'm easily impressionable. I know. But what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fix my mistake?

I should be happy. But these new friends…they're not good for me. I know.

I don't want my world to crash down around me. But the rocks have already started sliding, and one little pebble kicked over the edge could ruin me forever.

What do I do?

Help me.

I look back into the cracked mirror, and I force myself to keep on looking, even when the tears start pouring again.

I shouldn't be crying right now.

I should be happy.

You instilled this impenetrable conscience in me. I can never defy it, however much I want to.

There's this feeling I have. Nothing good is going to come out of this.

Incapable of movement, I stare into my own eyes, searching for a sliver of good that's left.

My friends aren't bad. They curse a lot, and say bad things, but they aren't doing anything that bad. No drugs, no alcohol.

So why do I feel so guilty?

Why does this feel so bad?

It's your fault. You made me too good, too perfect.

Don't you know? Nothing's perfect.

So now when I break out, I don't know how to handle things.

And I can't handle this anymore.

Ignoring the tears streaking down my face, I run out of the room, out of the house, out of the neighborhood. I keep on running and running, not looking back even once.

I'm ashamed of me.

I don't want you to be ashamed of me.

How do I fix this?

I need your help.

Finding an empty park, I collapse onto the ground, ignoring the sharp wooden chips digging into my skin.

I know I'm changing. And I know it's not good.

Just help me.

I look up just as the final rays of the sun set, their light filtering through the trees with little patterns, dancing on the ground.

I'm almost over the edge.

I'm doing nothing bad. I haven't broken any rules. Everyone still thinks I'm perfect.

I'm blessed. A wonderful family, a huge house, everything I could possibly want.

So why am I filled with this never ending despair? And this immeasurable unhappiness?

I miss my old friends. The ones who actually cared. Who actually listened.

I should be happy.

I sit there for what seems like hours, staring blankly at where the sun had set, and my hands start to shake with the frosty bite of the wind.

I need your help.


Silently, I leave the park, leaving behind no traces that I was ever there.