His door is closed behind me. It's staying closed. He's letting me go. I think I've made myself very clear, but no ones stepping forward to stop me. A lot of you cared, just not enough. And that...that is what i needed to find out. And I did find out. And I'm sorry.

My breathing begins to slow. The tension in my muscles starts to relax. Then, a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air. I open my eyes to bright moonlight. And Hannah, with warmth. Thank you.

Will I ever get control of my life? Will I always be shoved back and pushed around by those I trust?

And at some point, the struggle becomes too much-too tiring-and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.

You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own.

And after I dropped him off, I took the longest possible route home... I explored alleys and hidden roads I never knew existed. I discovered neighborhoods entirely new to me. And finally... I discovered I was sick of this town and everything in it.

Stories about sensitive issues like sex, drugs or sexual assault, suicide and teen drinking, are often censored because people just don't want to talk about those things. It's not that these things don't happen, but when they're shared in a fictional setting, for some reason they make some people uncomfortable.