The only way to get through with hearts and wrists intact is...

This isn't a poem or a short story. It's just a piece of writing. Maybe you'll like it and maybe you won't. But let me know.

I'm sitting here with blood on my hands. But please, take that metaphorically.

I'm also sitting here crying on the floor. Now that's something to take literally.

You and me, you and me and her, you and me and her and him.

You, me, us, them, this street, this area, this country, this continant, this world.

I know that many others must feel like me. You know it too. It is very much common knowledge.

But does it make it any easier?

The sun is setting on just another, other day. And the sky is looking so cool. Honestly.

It's all colour. All red and orange and pink and purple and blue.

I sit here and watch it alone, watch this beautiful, natural thing happen alone.

And I can see it, I can feel it, I can sense it as it hits me.

Wave after wave after wave.

Drowning me, this is when I wish that maybe I should have taken some swimming lessons.

The drowning and the hard to breathe, suffocating thing.

And the tears never stop rolling down my face.

If I were wearing make up, I'm sure my mascara would be running. I wouldn't know though.

I've never been a make-up wearing person. Or an immaculate hygene person. Or a hair person. Or a stylish person. Does this make me wrong?

Is it wrong that I don't look like many of you, and that I wouldn't want to either?

I am constantly being watched, we all are. It's not paranoia, this is just another common knowledge.

When I believe that I am crying at night, and that nobody knows, well that's just ignorant thinking that is.

I don't fit in any clique. I am not emo, nor preppy. I am not geeky, nor am I cool. Not a perfect student, nor a highschool drop out.

I am just me. Thats all I have.

I've been told before that I scare people.

Some because apparently I am quietly aggressive. I have an angry aura and people pick up on that and run the opposite way.

Some simply because I am a teenager.

At the most difficult and most prejudiced time of my life I struggle.

To stay sane, to keep my head above this water, to stay alive.

But still, everyday of my life I am making someone unhappy.

I am angering him, I am annoying her, I am running in this circle and I am stuck.

Just like me, just like you, and her and him.

They call us names, they stereotype us.

We are troubled, we are hurt, we are broken.

But as teenagers, we take this, we use it and make it our own,

And we will continue to scare the shit out of you.