I want to go find a dark, dark hole and never ever come out. I want to die there, alone and afraid. It would be no different then living here, other then the fact that I would never have to come out. I would never resurface. But I like that feeling. Death is so appealing: the word itself, the idea, everything about it. I'd never have to hear them again, see them again or be near them again. I'd like it that way. Why even bother thinking about my friends, they don't understand, they never will. I can't do this. I can't go on. I'm alone, and I'll always be alone. No one understands, not a single soul, and they never will.

I know what I have to do, to be happy, to feel again, even if the only thing I feel is a release from this world. It is what's best when all I do is drag people down; ruin their days with my sob stories of last night; make them worry with my bruises. Well not any more. I'm gone. So far, I don't know where, I don't care where. It's not here and that's all that matters. I'm done, I'm done, I'm done.

I walk into my father's study, not even caring who sees me there. It's not like they'd notice. They never do, until something affects them. Until something embarrasses them, then they notice. They don't hear me crying at night, shaking and trembling under the covers, clutching my pillow out of fear. Fear of the night, fear of tomorrow, fear of them, the world, myself. I'm lost, completely and utterly lost.

I clasp my hands around the cold gun and embrace the moment, my one true chance of freedom. I slip back out the door, down the hallway and leave the house. I slide the gun into my jacket pocket and head to the forest, to the clearing we always played in, running around the forest like wild animals, playing pirates. All the pirates die in the end. Some go sooner then others, and who knows, maybe they're the lucky ones. Maybe I'm a lucky one.

No one has noticed me so far, so who will notice me when I'm gone? No one, not a single person. Everyone has someone else, someone better. Everything is going as planned, I was done, it was dark, and I could go, drifting off into the black abyss to see no tomorrow.

Until she appears. Isle Neumann. The life she once knew, the life she had, she got away from it, she moved on. But to what? The artist's colony. Waking up with your life in someone else's hands, how is that any different then the way I'm living now? It isn't. No, I have the best solution here, leaving this world behind. Leaving everything behind and moving on. No, I just want her to go away, and she does, and so did my hope and my life. Everyone who ever loved me, everyone who was part of my life didn't stop to ask, didn't look twice, they just ran. Ran as far as they could. They had the right idea.

So what do I say to the angels? I tell them, I told them everything and they hug me. They hold me and do what no one else would do. They let me live. I live here, with friends. I'm free. Everyone listens and loves. There are no pressures, my parents are gone. They're a part of the past, a part of what was. What I left behind. The darkness has cleared up and I can see the sun. The light shines though every day now. Life is bliss, full of joy and understanding. I'm happy here. I'll never go back. I will look forward and carry the few good memories in my heart and make new ones with the angles in the light. I look down almost every day on what I left behind. Sometimes it hurts but mostly I smile, because I'm here now and I know no matter what one day they will be here too and everything will be ok. Everything will be behind us.