A/N- I wrote this for two reasons. I wanted to bring attention to the serious issue of teen suicide/ depression. I had a friend go through this recently and I needed to get my emotions out somehow. Two. I read a book recently. By The Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead. It was a phenomenal book about teen suicide. Anyone out there who has dealt with something of this sort, read it. Go. Now. It changed my viewpoint of everything. I want everyone out there to know that suicide is not always the answer. Someone out there does care. Don't hate on this because you don't like my writing, or how I presented the topic. I took everything my friend experienced and wrote it down. I can't hold it all inside. I dedicate this to anyone who has ever thought about committing suicide, and for those who have left us.

Disclaimer-Plot is mine, but the characters of Lily and James are not.

Invisible

People ask you if you're okay, but they don't expect an actual answer. So you say "I'm fine" and walk away, knowing that you just lied to their face. You don't feel fine. You feel numb. Unimportant. Invisible.

I walked into the psychiatrist's office and the first thing she asks is "How are you doing?" She knows the answer, but asks anyway. I say nothing. I would answer that I was okay, that I was doing perfectly fine. But I'm tired of lying. I'm tired of pretending. She tries again to engage in conversation, but I'm at a loss for words.

Then she asks the one question I know I have to answer:

"Are you still considering suicide?"

She knows the answer is yes. But I deny it anyway. Hoping that this time, she'll believe me. That she'll forget that last year happened. That I was here by mistake. That I was normal.

My name is Lily. Freak of Nature. Psycho. Suicidal. But you can just call me Lily. Yes, I tried to kill myself. No, I don't regret it. I dug a razorblade into arm and cut it straight down the middle. I waited for death, but it never came. Potter just had to barge in, minutes before the deed was done. I was in the school locker room, I couldn't risk my mother finding me at home. It was night, so no one was there, no one should have found me. I prayed to a god that I don't believe in that no one would come looking for me. But, of course, he did.

He ran towards me. Screaming my name. "Lily, NO! Lily!" He wanted to be the knight in shining armor, saving the damsel in distress. I didn't want to be saved. When he reaches me, he tells me to hold on, but I'm doing everything I can to let go. Waiting for my life to leave me. I black out. Hoping that I never have to wake up and face the world ever again.

But wishes don't come true. I wake up in the hospital. Potter's sleeping in the chair next to my bed. My hospital bed. I hate hospitals. All they do is save people. Even when they don't wish to be saved. Potter saved me. Damn him! I didn't deserve to be saved. I wanted, no, needed to die. I wanted the pain of my life to end. The suffering was just too much. How is it considered "saving" when he just gave me more time to suffer through life.

Now, I'm stuck in therapy. Trying to be fixed. Everyone keeps telling me, it gets better. But they don't honestly believe that. They look at me with those pitiful eyes, knowing that I can't be fixed. I've been broken into billions of small pieces. I was Humpty Dumpty, and I fell off the wall. But there weren't any horsemen to put me back together. No one cares that much. If they did, I wouldn't be stuck in a room with a psychiatrist who studies me. Judges me. Hoping that I have a "break through". I refuse to change. I should have died.

I was finally allowed to go back to school. I wish I didn't have to. They bully me there. Tease me. Stare at me as if I was a sick science experiment. Now they have even more reason to look at me. The girl who tried to kill herself. I can hear them talking. Their whispering haunts me. The words follow me everywhere I go. As if they were a dark cloud looming above my head. Potter insists on following me like a lost puppy. I have to be under constant watch. He has to make sure I never do anything like that again. But he should know that I am a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off.

I still go to therapy every day. 4:30p.m. sharp. She starts the session the same way every night. Asks the same two questions every time. Gets the same answers. It's like a rerun of the same, old, boring episode of one of those terrible soap operas. Today's session was particularly interesting, though. She didn't ask me how I was doing, she asked me why. Why did I try to kill myself? I actually responded, "I felt trapped. The world turned against me. The teasing, the humiliation. It all became too much." She looks at me with a look of utter shock. Like she expected me to just sit there. But I am tired of sitting there silent. I needed to be heard. I wanted to shout my hatred for the world on the rooftops. It was these vicious ways of mankind that did this to me. Ruined me. Tore every essence of happiness away from me.

I'm biding my time before I can end my life, for good this time. The therapy isn't helping. I tried convincing myself that this was a permanent solution to temporary problems, but that hasn't changed my mind. I need to be rid of this life. Move on to whatever waits for me on the other side, whether it is eternal hell, reincarnation, I don't know. But I know I need to be there. That is where I was meant to be. I don't fit into this world. So, it's time I move on to a new one. You may say I'm insane, that I shouldn't think this way. But how can I not? When all this time I have suffered, waiting for one single moment in my life that isn't full of suffering. Just. One. Moment.

My mother doesn't look at me anymore. We don't speak. Not a single word. Sometimes, I see that she wants to say something, but hesitates and decides against it. If she were to say anything, maybe my ultimate outcome would be different, but she refuses. She used to smile all the time. She used to beam with pride when she saw me. Now, I see disappointment. Shame. Guilt. She blames herself, tries to understand. But she fails miserably.

Potter still guards me. Every time I walk into school, he's there. He talks to me, but receives no reply. People probably think he's insane for wanting to be anywhere near me. Why is he constantly around me anyway? Since he saved me, does he have some obscene attachment, an urge to keep me safe? He needs to leave me alone to wallow in my own self pity. I blame him. I blame him for me still being alive. I should be dead. 8 feet under. Gone. But, no! He had to play the hero. Trying to save me from myself. Who does he think he is? He doesn't know me. I'm his charity case. The damsel in distress.

It's time. I can feel it. It's time for me to end it. This time, I won't be so careless. I've planned it out. Every. Last. Detail. I will do it at school, in the dead of night. I will go to the swimming pool. Chain myself to two cinder blocks and throw myself into the water. It's a painful, but highly effective way to die. They'll find me in the morning. I hope I look peaceful. I will be an example to all of what bullying does to a person.

I pack my things and go to the school. I don't bother leaving a note. It won't matter anyway. It'd be a constant reminder that I was a failure at life, that I had no will to live. I don't want to leave anyone with any guilt. Though they deserve it. The people on this earth corrupted me. Crushed my soul and trampled any sign of hope I ever showed.

I reach the school. Dead silence. I'm alone. I wander around the school for a moment, silently saying goodbye to the hellish time I spent here. It was here that I was tortured. As I walk through the dark hallways, the memories haunt me. The name-calling. The taunting. It has a funny way of creeping up on you.

Finally, I reach the pool. I chain myself to the blocks. I take one last moment to think of what could have been. I stop myself. I died inside a long time ago, thinking into a future that I will never have is just one last mistake I shouldn't make. I think of what lies beyond this life. All I want is to be peaceful. To be rid of the hatred. I throw the blocks into the pool and my body is submerged. It doesn't take long for me to begin to lose consciousness. I hear someone jump into the pool. But it was too late. I was too far gone to be saved this time.

A/N I hope this made you think a lot about what words can do to people. Don't hate on me for the plot, or my amateur writing. /3