Our eyes met across the crowded room, like in the movies, except we didn't share a knowing smile and race into each other's arms. Instead I fell into the trash can.

My parents will be sad for a while, and they may even blame themselves, the way they do now. Eventually they'll come to peace with my decision. I hope they'll realize I'm finally at peace.

At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.

You would never understand, Kim. You think I'm normal; you wish I was.

Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.

Girls scare me more than boys. Boys are cruel. Girls are mean.

I think about my choice. Either outcome is bleak. If I stay and live through high school, go to college, get a job, what will ever change? This blackness inside will never go away. I don't make friends; I'll always be alone. If I go, at least there's hope of peace. Chance of a new and better life on the other side.