Authors Note: okay, new story. it's different than anything I've ever wrote before. So angsty, Note: I am not making fun of anyone with bipolar disorder, or anyone who cuts themselves. I'm not suicidal, so don't ask me that. Okay? This story just, well, came to me. I hope you guys like it. (:

Review? Thanks!

Brenda. X3

Death. It was easy, simple, sometimes quick, sometimes painless, but it always made the pain go away. Pain was unbearable, it hurt. You just felt broken, empty, low when you were in pain. Not in physical pain, well, not always, but in emotion pain... all you wanted it to do was go away. You didn't want it, you wanted to be happy, you didn't want to have to fake a smile, to literally feel your heart breaking inside of your chest, just getting hammered away. It just hurt. There was no way to really ever describe it into words.

Life. Life fucking sucked. That was a way to be blunt about it, sure, sometimes it had its perks. Sometimes. When you really think about it, sad out weighs the times you've been happy in life, doesn't it? Depression is a powerful thing, it doesn't just go away, unless you're bipolar, which is okay, you don't know what to feel. You're lucky, if you're depressed, it can go away in a matter of minutes and then you're some adrenaline rushed crack head. It doesn't matter to you. But, when you feel so. fucking. low. that you can't. feel. nothing. at all. It's terrible, you're in pain. You feel. broken. Just broken. into. pieces.

That was how Shane Gray felt at this particular moment, he had been feeling this way since he was fourteen fucking years old. And he hated it. He was nineteen and he felt like an emo kid posed to be. He hated it, maybe it was a puberty hormone, maybe he was part girl. He didn't know. All he knew was that, he hated life. It sucked and he wanted nothing more than to be taken out of this world.

Which was why he was here right now. Suicide. It should've been easy, painless, quick. But it wasn't. And he hated that. He didn't cut himself deep enough, he didn't even cut himself in the right fucking place. Overdosing would've been easier, but he didn't have the patience, and he wanted to feel something, even if it was physical pain. That stinging with his own blood, which proved that his fucking heart was still heating, ran down his arms. He wanted to feel something.

But all he got was seventy three hours in the hospital, being watched and an order to see a therapist weekly. Just fucking up his life more.

Have I mentioned life sucks, recently? Yes, No? Well, guess what? Life. fucking. sucks.! It's just some thing that putts us through pain. And more, and more pain.

So, you're probably one of billions confused in this waste we call a world, right? Or at least someone who is confused on this anger, depressing ranting.

Shane Gray tried to commit suicide, he failed, just like he did with everything else, therefore, His Parents sent him out of the Hollywood lifestyle to live with their hillbilly hick friend, Robby Ray Stewart to 'straighten him out.' Death would have straightened him out. But he couldn't tell them that

Franklin, Tennessee. It was about as far as you could fucking get away from Hollywood, California. This wasn't the mother fucking 90210.

Instead of sunny paparazzi filled streets there were long, red dirt roads and horse pastures everywhere, bright green grass, bright white clouds and a big bright yellow fucking sun. Everyone around here, that he had passed so far, were all smiles and cheering, greeting everyone they saw.

It was like sub-fucking-burbia. Something out of a movie. Something Shia Labeouf would make fun of. Something Shane Gray would make fun of.

This town was small, he wasn't a small town guy. This wasn't for him.

A ranch, that was where Robby Ray lived. A mother. fucking. ranch. With horses and barns and pigs and animals. With Life.

Shane hated life, did you know that? Oh, you did? Well, oh well. Shane hates life.

"We're Here!" Robby Ray announced loudly and cheerfully, it disgusted Shane.

"Yippee." He muttered, ignoring the frown from Robby Ray. He didn't care.

He got out of the pickup truck, grabbing his duffel bag and disrespectfully slamming the door behind him, he heard Robby Ray sigh and Shane wished he would have yelled at him, telling him to show respect. But he didn't.

No one really cared enough to tell him right from wrong, Shane frowned and looked around, his newly cut but still shaggy dark black hair feeling the hott summer sun hit onto it, soaking into his skin from under his hair.

"Well, why don't we go get you settled in, huh?" Robby Ray asked holding Shane's other duffel bag. Shane sighed and rolled his eyes, following Robby Ray when he started to walk towards the door of the large wooden home.

They walked in and Shane let the door close behind him, he looked around in disgust. It was so... homey and cozy. It was disgusting to see. The walls were dark brown with tan furniture, multiple animal stuffing's on the wall, making Shane raise his eyebrows at them, and a bunch of family pictures, some black and white that Shane was sure he'd hear Robby Ray rant on about how "Back when I was a youngin' My Daddy owned this little farm and we'd..." and so forth.

"This is home." Robby Ray said spreading out his arms and smiling widely. Shane smiled, it was fake and way too force. A blind person could see it.

"Yay." Shane bit before sighing. "Where am I sleeping at?"

"Don't you wanna meet the family?" Robby Ray asked confused. Shane frowned at him, giving him a blank look.

"Not Really." Shane muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

Robby Ray sighed before shaking his head. "Oh, well, you are." Shane glared at him, but Robby Ray ignored him, setting the duffel bag on the stair case and making Shane do the same before, quite literally, dragging him into the front room. Shane shot a glare into Robby Ray and jerked his arm away.

"I'm not a little kid." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, slightly wincing from the stinging in his arms under the dark black, long sleeved thermal shirt, the cuts were still fresh and just starting to scab.

"Well, then, quit acting like one." Robby Ray quipped, Shane gasped at him before they entered the front room. Shane looked around in disgust.

He hated life. Did you know that? Oh. well. get. fucking. use. to. it.

As soon as Shane's eyes landed on the three in the front room, he immediately hated them. They were cheery and looked like they didn't know how to act around him. And they shouldn't. They hadn't been where he had.

"Shane!" The older woman, Susan said happily as she stood up. "It's so nice to see you, again! How are you?" She asked wrapping her arms around him.

Shane felt warmth go through his body at the affection and urged himself to hug her back, but he didn't. Because he knew, it was another false alarm. He didn't feel anything, he just wanted to, therefore, making him fucking. delusional.

"Hi." He muttered, shrugging her off. Susan frowned and Robby Ray told her something with his eyes. They were fucking aliens, Shane knew it.

"Do you remember Jackson, Shane?" Susan asked, as if Shane was a child as she ushered Jackson to stand up. "He use to play with you when you guys were little?"

"Nah, Really?" Shane bit plainly, as he rolled his eyes. "I was four, I don't remember, so don't tell me cute little stories about how we use to throw mud at one another, life sucks, those weren't happy times so don't try and make me happy. I want to die. Deal with it."

Everyone in that room looked a taken back by his blunt behavior. It wasn't everyday someone just openly admitted a suicidal thought.

"Um." Susan coughed, clearing her throat. "And this is Miley, she was born after you guys moved..." She started, ignoring Shane's previous words, making him frown, Shane sighed before looking at the girl.

He felt his breath get caught in his throat. She was... beautiful. He felt. something. That something being lust. She smiled at him and Shane noticed the sparkle, the innocence in her bright blue eyes. Something he had lost a long time ago, especially the sparkle. He didn't know if he ever really had it.

"Hi." He muttered, avoiding his eyes and shifting himself around, making Miley frown, but he ignored it. Because he didn't feel anything. At All... Right?

Authors Note: Thoughts? Thanks. I got this idea, some-what from Ferras's "Hollywood is not America." but other than that, it just came to me, to be quite honest.

Review? Thanks. (:

Brenda. X3