*sigh* Hey guys...

I'm not really sure why I'm posting this—again.

I posted this once last year, but took it down because although did think it was good, I also thought it was kind of like a little rant for me since I, mentally, wasn't doing to well at the time I originally posted this.

So, I took it down. It was short, but it was also kinda personal. I wrote this and tied my story in with Maya's.

Not all of it is inspired by me though. The college, the razors and classmates? Yeah, that's not me. I'm not in college, only halfway through high school.

But the poems about being an outcast and hiding them in a drawer? Yeah, that's me. I actually wrote poems like that.

So, hopefully you guys like it. I don't really feel comfortable posting it, but I feel like doing so gives me comfort, so what's why I'm doing so. And, if you guys do like it, I'll post other parts. Second, third, fourth, you name it, I'll post it. :)

Maya had a good life.

Or at least, she thought she did.

She went through traumatic experiences when her mom and dad started fighting. Things were thrown, words were said and she constantly heard her mom's screams echo throughout the night.

But once she met Riley, that all changed.

Riley introduced her to Farkle, Lucas, Zay and Smackle, and suddenly everything was okay again.

Until she went to college.

At college, things were awful. Yes, she was at a great school, and yes, the professors were amazing, but the classmates and students were an entirely different story.

Every day, every hour of every week, she heard laughter in the halls.

Laughter, that she knew, was directed at her.

Words were said, and pointed were fingers—literally. Each time she arrived to a lecture or a class, late or not, she'd always sink back into her chair, desperately and deeply hoping to drown out the world around her.

And then during each class, she'd fall asleep and after each class, her teacher always ask her whether she was alright, to which she'd always reply "Yes, yes, I am, thank you," and hurry out the door.

Because truth was...

She wasn't.

Maya was diagnosed with the depression at the age of nine, exactly two years after her father left and two years after she met Riley and Farkle as well.

She wrote poems about being an outcast and outsider among her peers and poems about contemplating suicide, both of which her mother found stuffed inside a random drawer in her bedroom.

She wasn't good at hiding things so how she hid her thoughts and feelings for two years straight, she didn't know.

After that, her mother had a talk with her about love and how life was worth living, but it didn't change anything.

So, she went to a therapist.

But that didn't work either and after three months of trying—of trying to not feel this way and trying not to give up—she failed. She failed to try, she didn't want to try anymore, the therapist was just there to get paid, it wasn't like he actually wanted to help her.

He just wanted the money.

And at the time, they didn't have much of that. Her mom made twenty dollars an hour—previously ten—in the small Nighthawk Cafe she worked at, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

They barely had enough to buy food, they barely made it through the winter, nevermind the year.

But now they had Shawn, they had Shawn, and they had enough money to buy food and send her to college.

But she still felt like something was wrong.

Because after years of crying and feeling like she wanted to die, she was now getting teased and made fun of for it.

Which just raised the pain to a whole new level.

For the past few weeks, she'd been going to the college counsellor (yes, they did have one of those), but unfortunately, it hadn't made much help. And now, here she was, contemplating suicide again.

Once more.

It's not like anybody'd miss her. Her friends at this school were almost nonexistent, with the exception of her roommate. Sure, her mom and Shawn would be disappointed, but they have another kid coming, so it's not like they'd miss her.

While thinking and contemplating all of this—all of her thoughts—she made her way to the bathroom she shared with her female roommate and opened up the drawer full of shampoos, conditioners and razors.

Razors.

With a flick of her finger, she turned it on and the little buzzing sound that sounded oddly familiar to a swarm of bees filled the room.

Slowly, she brought it to her skin...

...and broke down crying.

She collapsed on her knees—on her hands and knees—at that moment, dropping the razor and throwing it across the room. "No," She cried, "No, no, no, no, I can't do this, I-I can't, I just can't." She had so many friends and family, she couldn't even bare to imagine what'd happen to them if she actually committed it. There was no way she could do that to them, her herself, to her mom.

She already lost her husband, there was no way Maya was gonna take her daughter from her too.

She had then, while close to hyperventilating, grabbed the dorm phone before quickly dialling the number she needed to call.

"Mom?" She called, "Shawn? I-I think I have a problem."

So, yeah. Not really sure why I posted this. But, if you guys do like it and do want me to post more, leave a little review and I'll see if I can get back to you.

If I get nothing by the end of the day tomorrow, I'll be shutting this story down. *shrugs* What? I'm insecure. Don't judge.

~Star