Don't own anything
Warning: Talk of depression and self inflicting pain.
I look out my window, and stare into the darkness in the sky.
Darkness…the word makes me think of myself.
I look around myself, finally noticing I am in fact surrounded by darkness. I laugh, so predictable.
I wrap my arms around myself, I am my only security, and I'm a pretty suckass one too.
I look down at my wrist and finger the elastic. My new therapy. I run my fingers over the new bruises, and wince. But it's satisfying, addicting, I'm so used to being hurt, it's addicting, so when others aren't hurting me, I'm hurting me. Wow, I'm depressed.
I glance at the clock, thirty minutes until school, I was going to be late, but then again maybe I don't need to go.
Mom and dad, won't care, they never do. Why start now? I was a mistake after all, they don't need me, they don't love me they don't give a shit! The rest of the family doesn't exist, so they won't care.
The teachers won't care, they never give a crap. Of course, that maybe my fault, I can't be a role model student, even though I'm a social butterfly, and active participant in school activities. But that's just not good enough.
My 'friends' won't care. They have each other, I'm just the loner in the group, who they use until needed, then throw away, never to be cared for again. I'm an outcast in my own clique, they wouldn't think so, but I am. Not like they know what I feel, they never will, because they don't ask, they don't care. I could get attacked, and they wouldn't notice, too caught up in their own lives to notice the one friend who has always been there for them. It may sound conceited, but I have. I abandon my problems for theirs, and keep everything in. But maybe it's my fault, it always is, somehow.
The guys who claim to love me and care for me, yeah right. I'm just a good time to them, a play toy. I let them think of me like that, I can't afford to let them in, because I can't afford to have my damaged heart shatter.
I'm not enough for any of those people, you see? I'm not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, just not enough!
The only people I'm enough for, are my groupies, or fans, if you must. But they don't know me, I have to be fake for them, I can't be vulnerable, I can't let my guard down, the walls don't go down.
I slowly lift myself off the window sill. I sigh, as I rummage through my enormous closet, courtesy of my parents. Twenty minutes later, I'm ready to go, surprising isn't? You'd think it would take longer to make myself up, personality included.
Because they can't see the real me, they don't want to. I don't want them to, because then they can hurt me, and get to me, and I will not let anyone else hurt me. Not again. I'm tired of crying, so this is the only way.
I look at myself in the mirror. Perfect. Perfect doesn't seem to be enough.
I make my way to the door, grabbing my bag as I do so. I look back one more time into the darkness. Darkness. My only safe place, sad eh?
I place my hand on the knob, and pause. I look down, shut my eyes real tight, and smile.
Because I'm Brooke Davis, everyone knows me, and everyone loves, why shouldn't I smile? But they don't know me and they don't love me, and if you look really closely, you'll see that it's a broken smile.