Do they know? 

No. They don't know, they don't know the problems I drown in because I make them myself. A constant barrage of insults, never said allowed because the words are only meant for me.

Do they hear? 

No. They don't hear the tears that fall on my pillow. They don't hear the sound of my voice screaming in my head.

Do they know? 

No. They don't know I'm tearing at the seams, gripping and pulling trying to stay together. 

Do they understand?

No. The problems I make for myself they wouldn't understand because they don't see how big they are to me. It is in the perspective and they simply don't see it

Would they understand? 

No. They would tell me I've got it good and I shouldn't feel this pain. That only makes it worse. They wouldn't understand the sharp feeling that a light push will do, the faint lines no one will notice 

Am I weak? 

Yes. I drown myself in thoughts that are irrelevant about things I can't change. I can't push myself away from the darkness because I'm pulling myself towards it. I'm like the tide reaching out to the shore only to be dragged back in a never ending cycle. 

                                 Sincerely,

                                  My thoughts 

Hot tears falling from eyes that hide so much. They carve valleys on her cheeks, each one a different struggle, a different problem, problems that have been bottled up to long.

Each problem rolling on to her pillow, the keeper of all her woes. It won't tell anyone of the things she hides, it holdes it all so she doesn't have to.

Most of you will think I was just an irrational teenager who knew nothing about life therefore I shouldn't have taken my own, but your wrong. Most of you think that I was happy and healthy and popular, but most of you would be wrong about that too. You saw my smiling face and thought nothing of what I was actually feeling, you believed the facade of confidence that I used as my shield. None of you really knew me, you just assumed you knew me...you assumed that just because I didn't tell you anything it meant I was fine. You didn't know that I cried myself to sleep thinking about the expectations of those around me, expectations I could never live up to, the fear of failing...of falling. You thought I was a dreamer when you caught me staring into space, yah I was dreamer until I realized dreams don't come true, people disappoint you, hope doesn't make things come true, the day may end but the pain never stops, and people fall... They fall so far they can't get back, so far they can't crawl away from the demons that pull them back down, so far down that everything is just black. I don't want to live in the dark anymore. So you may not understand it, but this is my farewell

Words of my own, clawing their way through my thoughts. stopping me from escaping into the worlds of my dreams. Drilling holes in my facade of confidence, no one sees the pain. The pain of the failures and fumbles of the day that stop me from perfection that eat me alive every night.

The dirt is caked beneath her fingernails from scratching the floor, the floor that's rotting away. The floor she pleaded and begged on, the floor she started her life on. She had been sitting there for hours, she had no where else to go. 

          *Just a few months earlier* 

She walks in a haze to the front of the funeral parlor, her hood is up, no one can know sh'es here or they'll take her away, she won't be another foster kid shuffled in and out of homes where the people don't care. She has made her mind. She'll survive.