I'm sitting on my bed in the turtles' lair crying. No one knows I am crying. They think that it can get better just like that!

Well, it can't.

It hurts too much to think about. It was too painful to even think about the events that had occured at school today. It just hurt too much. I had tried digging my nails into my skin, but I couldn't draw blood. The turtles can monitor me in the lair, but not when I am at school.

I tried using scissors to cut my hand. Rubbing the blade against my skin. It hadn't worked. The teacher yelled at me and I grew scared and silently began to cry. That's how easy I am to break nowadays. My mother and I had gotten into this huge arguement, and every word she calls me cuts through me like a knife that had just ran through cake.

Was it supposed to hurt this much? Was I supposed to be sitting here, crying on my bed? All because of some stupid kids at school. Even some that had happened to me in my sixth grade year.

"Move back so she can't get in." Her little minion scooted her chair back to keep me from being able to get to my own seat. I take in a deep breath and walk to the other side. The same thing occurs.

The girls laugh as I struggle and try to get to my own seat, irritating me the more they do it.

"Let her get in." The teacher tells the students.

"Believe me, she is not the only one!" I tell her.

Fifth grade.

"Hey, don't touch Fang! She's got the Fang touch!"

My own friend had betrayed me. Both of them. One because of her boyfriend.

"He won't quit calling me names." She shrugs and walks off.

My other friend made a new one and barely acknowledged my existence anymore.

"Well, maybe I should just go kill myself!" No response.

In sixth grade my friends made my crush give me a note that asked if I wanted to go out with him. I said yes and learned the hard way that it was a prank.

My boyfriend dumped me by leaving a note in my locker. Problem is...he put it in the wrong locker.

Maybe, my life just wasn't meant to be, I think as I rest my hands around my throat. Maybe it was all just a mistake. I was misplaced. Yeah, that was it. They had all said it themselves. I was just a waste of space.

Suddenly, Mikey came into my room, shut the door and sat on my bed and pulled me into a hug.

"What're you doing, Mikey?" I asked as tears built up in my eyes.

"I knew something was wrong with you. Just tell me." He said.

I sniffed. "Why do you like me? I'm ugly, stupid, slow in speed wise, weak-"

"How can you call yourself ugly when I'm the one who's the five foot mutant turtle?" I grabbed his hand in his sweet embrace.

"You're not ugly, Mike."

"And neither are you." I look into his ice baby blue eyes. How could he say that? I was disgusting. The left side of my hair looked similar to a boy's while my right side resembled a girl with short hair. I had tons of zits and scars on my face and I was larger than most kids. I also have braces with a blue band connecting my teeth as well as black glasses.

I began to cry and bury my head into Mikey's shoulder. I hated myself.

I hated life.

I hate everything. I just wanted to slip under the warm water in my bathtub and allow the waves to pass over me, leaving me away to my fate.

"I want this to stop. The bullies just won't stop! What did I do to them?!" I sob into Mikey's shoulder. He just pats my back. He knew I was feeling like this for a long time.

"I won't say that this will be easy, but you need to tell your parents they can hel-"

"No, they can't!" I yelled as I sat up. "You guys think that my parents would care! Well, they don't! They don't give a hee-haw! The help would never work either!" I yell as I run out of the lair, as Mikey yelled after me.

Hey guys, It's been a tough week, so I thought I should tell you guys about the thoughts that have been racing through my head. I know this is a downer and really short, I've just been called so many names this week, and I hate it so much. I was on the verge of crying as I wrote this. I've just been really depressed this week. I even cried today at school. I tried to cut my hand by rubbing the scissors blade against my hand, but it didn't work. I just needed to get this off my chest. And maybe some of you can relate. Did you like it, love it, hate it? Let me know. Your opinion matters. :)