Darkness. Alone again. I can't believe I'm still here. I can't believe I'm still alone. For some reason, he won't notice me. Even after all these years, he continues to be a jigsaw puzzle I can't put together and I'm still a ghost to him. I've always been invisible, but lately I seem to have sunken even deeper into the shadows. Even a smile in passing… I don't need him to look at me that way right now. I don't expect him to, considering the circumstances. I love him, but for now I just need to know he seems me. But he's with her, and I feel dead; not even tears come to comfort me now. I seem to have run out. It's been a long few days of being ignored and an eternity worth of ignorance.

I'm working through the usual day's heartbreak, and I can't sleep yet again. I sit on my bed, legs crossed, hands resting lightly on my knees. Then I'm pulled out of the deep pit that is my meaningless thoughts by the most annoying sound one can hear in the middle of the night: the telephone. Shrill blast after blast of imitation bells echo through the thick blackness of my lonely apartment. There's really nothing better to do. Might as well.

Two a.m. and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake.

"Slow down," my rushed whisper of a voice tumbles over her own, calming her. "Sakura-chan, I can't understand you. What are you talking about? Is everything alright?" I try to calm her, though the panic in her voice has transferred to mine somehow and it shakes slightly. I have to be her pillar, appear full to her, even if I happen to be cracking to pieces on the inside. Anyone coming to see me has to believe I am whole. I'm a tourist site. No one wants to visit if you're not worth seeing.

Through her sobbing I get the basic picture of what's happened. I can see her, hugging her knees with one arm, sitting in the corner on her bed, holding her black cell to her ear and talking to me. She's chocking on her own words as they stick in her throat then stumble out through her lips in clumps. I catch the words I need to understand.

"Naruto-kun."

"Too far."

"Please."

She's talking about her relationship with the boy I happen to be in love with. I've supported her through it all. She fell for him in late fall, sometime in September. He had always been after her, so it was only natural that they got together. She knew I had liked him, but I told her I was over it. I no longer yearned for him like I had when we were younger. The sad thing was, she believed me.

They started dating in October, and it had been so good for them. They were happy together. Now it is early March and spring is creeping up on all of us, bringing with it new life and new beginnings. And here my best friend is calling me in the dead of night, her tears seeming to reach me through the phone, telling me she's scared. After almost six months of dating and seven years of knowing each other, they had gone too far to quickly. And now she wants out and somehow it's my job to get her out of her unlucky circumstance.

"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season."

For now I tell her to calm down. "I'm here for you. I'll stay on the line as long as you need to me." For a long time her sobs are the only thing that break through the receiver. She doesn't say it, but I know she means to thank me. I won't cry yet. Soon heavy breathing comes through her end and I know she's fallen asleep. "Goodnight, Sakura-chan."

I hold the phone in front of me, though I can't see it, and my thumb finds the button, turning it off. I know her phone will turn off automatically in a minute or so. It won't wake her. I gently place the phone on my bedside table and untangle my crossed legs. I lay down on my mattress, my hands folded under my head, curl up on my side and close my eyes, feel the weight of the darkness bear down upon me. My wet companions come to me at last, and I fall asleep to their whispers across my skin.

By the next morning the word is already around town. Everyone knows what's happened, and whispers follow souls around, latching on to ears and consciences at any opportunity. The blonde's slumped figure places itself in the far corner of restaurant. We're the only two in there. From my barstool on the opposite side I consider reaching out to him. But just as our eyes meet, the group comes in and we're parted.

I read the body language clearly written on each of their backs. I can't see their faces, but I imagine they all look the same. Arms are crossed over chests and hands are placed on hips. Jaws are squared and bodies bear down on their prey. I slip out through the curtain, abandoning him, not wanting to be involved. One glance back before the curtain falls shows me their faces, evil and brooding, and I can't help but bite my lip and hold back the guilt.

Yeah, they walk through the door; so accusing their eyes,

I think of the group in the little restaurant and can't help but want to hit each and every one of them. I know what they're doing and I know what they'll back it up with. They're trying to make him feel bad, tell him he hurt Sakura. As if what they did was his fault. As if he forced it on her. They'll work him until he believes it himself and feels like falling into a hole and curling up there, alone, for the rest of his life.

Eventually their consciences will get a hold of them and tell them they had no right. I know for a fact that most, if not all of them, have been in that boy's situation. Now they're just doing it to get back at everyone who ever did it to them. But they'll tell themselves they're protecting their friend, that they have good intentions. Then they'll dismiss it and continue with the dark looks in their eyes without any remorse at all. It's all about feeling better about yourself, even at the cost of others.

Like they have any right at all to criticize.
Hypocrites, you're all here for the very same reason.

As I sit in my lonely apartment and sip tea, looking out at the curtain of rain through my windowpane, the shrill tones of my phone meet my ears and enter my brain. Taking a deep breath I pick it up and answer, even though I would really rather not talk to anyone at the moment. It's Sakura. Again. And she's crying. Again. She didn't want everyone to know, she says. She didn't want them to attack Naruto that way. So I tell her the bitter truth.

She didn't want to go too far, but she did. She didn't want everyone to know, but they do. She didn't want them to attack him, but they did. I keep my voice calm as I continue. Her sobbing has stopped at my tone in surprise.

We can never leap because we'll fall. Rarely is there someone to catch us, and she's lucky she has anyone at all. I ask her what she expected, but she doesn't answer me, so I fill the silence. What has happened is over, and no one can change that. There's no way to go back and do it over. It's already done.

"Lay down, Sakura-chan," I continue calmly. "Breathe. You'll get through it. Just breathe."

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable.
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, girl,
So cradle you head in you hands.
And breathe. Just breathe. Oh breathe. Just breath.

I walk out of the library hugging books to my chest. My feet kick up some dirt as I walk home, past the nearly empty Uchiha manor. I stop and let a small smile play across my lips as I remember the day about this time last year when Sasuke held his twenty-first birthday party. It was so exciting. I didn't drink, but the way people stumbled around made me giggle, even if I knew it was wrong to laugh. Sasuke drannk the most of all, and no one thought much about it then. Just having fun, we supposed. I started hanging out with him more often afterwards and we became close. I hadn't seen him for a while and figured he wouldn't mind a visit.

May he turned twenty-one on the base at Fort Bliss.

I knock, but no one answers. I try the knob, which turns and allows me in at the slightest touch. I wander for a moment, knowing the place well, and stumble in to find my friend slouched in his chair in the living room. He mumbles to himself, his words slurred and nearly indiscernible. I drop my books and approach him slowly. I follow his downward gaze until I see the bottle in his hands; a nearly-empty bottle of golden poison, burning as it goes down but still unable to find its way out of your hand.

"Sasuke…" My voice is hesitant, unsure of how to approach someone in his state. I've seen people fall victim to the bitter liquid several times, but I can tell there is something deeper here. It isn't his first today. The alcohol has worked its way inside of him, slowly filling his mind and bloodstream. It's taking over, and no one's paid any attention.

Sasuke's hollow eyes stare at me for a second as my shaking palms rest on his knees. There is no recognition in his empty, onyx eyes, and they return solemnly to his drink, which he swirls before taking a swig. He mumbles again and this time I catch what he's saying. It seemsour memories travelled to the same moment, today.

"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist.
"Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year."

I close my eyes and bite my lip. "Sasuke…" I can't help but cry. It's been so long already, and no one cared. No one noticed? Not even me… It didn't seem possible that we all let this slip through our hands. Sure as months progressed we saw less and less of him, but no one thought much about it. True we are all busy these days, but when did we stop caring?

A sharp intake of breath escapes as his fingers tangle in my hair without warning. He lifts me head and for a moment, as his black eyes bore into my white ones. I see recognition there. Then his hand curls and it tugs the strands, and his eyes empty again, leaving me trying to get away. I pull on his wrist, and struggle makes him hesitate before release me. I stand and look sadly at him, then back away, and run out the door. People try to stop me on my way home, but I don't look back.

The next day I find the library books on my doorstep. I forgot them in my rush to get out. On top is a note with a simple, "Sorry," scribbled on it. Word's gotten around town fast again and now people are talking. Apparently more went to visit him, and now everyone knows the condition he's in. It's sad and a heavy weight falls upon us all, knowing we're all at fault for ignoring what was right in front of us, for allowing it to happen, for letting it get as bad as it is.

Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while.

A week passes. In that time I only see him once. I went in town shopping for groceries. Turning a corner I came face to face with his onyx orbs. So taken a back by the proximity, I stumbled. In a precious moment of sobriety, Sasuke laughed at me.

I didn't scold him for laughing. I simply studied him. Without the smile he looked dreadful. His eyes were drawn back and encircled with blue-purple rings giving the impression they were sunken in. His complexion was dingy and pale. His colorless cheeks echoed the look of his eyes, and his lips were too thin. Who knows when he ever ate. From his frame, apparently it's been a while.

But with the smile… His sunken eyes crinkled at the corners and some life popped into his dead, black eyes. His teeth just showed behind his stretched, thin lips. Some color made its way into his pale cheeks, and for a second, he was the boy I remembered. He didn't say my name, but looked at me for a moment, then smiled once again and turned away. Seeing his face light up again was worth the ridicule.

In that moment I wanted to wrap him in my arms and take it all away… But I was powerless.

But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles.
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.

Sasuke took a leap, and he fell. Tonight he calls me in tears. I think he's hit bottom. I realize he's calling me for support, and I tell him the damage is already done. All we can do now is get better. He has to get better. I have to help him get better. I run to his house in a frenzy. This isn't something to deal with over the phone. It's personal. He needs me. Once inside I find him on the couch, crying, the phone still in his hands.

I take it from him and realize it's still on.

"Lay down, Sasuke-kun," I croon, sitting down beside him on the couch, running my fingers through his hair. "Breathe. We'll get through it. Just breathe."'

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable.
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boy,
So cradle you head in you hands.
And breathe. Just breathe. Oh breathe. Just breath.

. Through it I realize that there are always ways out, you just have to work for them. Sometimes people think you're on a one-way track, but there's usually another path. You just have to take the time to look for it. The only problem is, most of us freeze in fear and get stuck in one place for too long, unable to see any other way.

There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout.
'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out.

When we don't have people around to support us, when there's no structure, when there's no guidance, we do the same thing over because it's all we know. Why do we reprimand those who do not learn from their errors? Isn't is partly our fault in allowing them to make the same mistakes again? How should we expect anyone to learn if we do not teach them? We have to tell them to look back and figure out what went wrong. Then, with some help, it won't happen again.

And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again,
if you only try turning around.

Darkness. Alone again. I can't believe I'm still here. I can't believe I'm still alone. For some reason, he won't notice me. Even after another year, he continues to be a jigsaw puzzle I can't put together and I'm still a ghost to him. I've always been invisible, and at the moment it seems I always will be. No matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise, I love him. I always have and always will. He's not with her anymore, but he's not with me, either. With this admittance ringing in my head, I feel dead; not even tears come to comfort me now. I seem to have run out. It's been a long year of being ignored and an eternity worth of ignorance.

I'm working through the usual day's heartbreak, and I can't sleep yet again. I sit on my bed, legs crossed, hands resting lightly on my knees. But this time the telephone does not interrupt me. Instead I'm left alone with the silence. There's something I need to say… I'm not sure how it will sound, but in my heart I know it needs to be said and I'm the one who has to say it.

I stand from my bed and walk to my small desk, turning on a dim lamp. The clock reads two o'clock. Pencil in hand, I start to write.

Two a.m. and I'm still awake, writing a song.

It hurts. I've been wanting to say these things for a while now and as I write I realize that it hurts to hold everything ing. It comes to my attention that these feelings eat me from the inside, that I've been very much involved in all these events and I never said a word to anyone who intervened. It's been eating me…

If I get it all down on paper, its no longer
inside of me, threatening the life it belongs to.

I take my work and cry over it, splattering the page with tears. I realize how ignorant we all are in our own ways and how unfair it is to those whose ignorance is taken from others. My words turn into someone between a song and a story, though I'm not quite sure how it goes. I just know it's a song that people need to hear. I hand print copies. A copy for my love. A copy for my best friend. A copy for the alcoholic. A copy for the hypocrites. A copy for the girl down the street. A copy for the parents around the corner. And a copy for me. Each copy, signed with my name, finds it's way into a mailbox tonight.

And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
'Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud.

I've always hidden. I wonder now what people will do when they see my signature at the bottom of those pages. I wonder if they'll know what role they played in my song. I wonder what they'll do to me. If they take nothing away from the words I've written, I will surely be attacked. Then again, it doesn't really matter anymore because I'm no longer afraid.

And I know that you'll use them, however you want to.

I can't turn back. I can't rewind. But I understand that we are all a little lost, and it takes everyone for one of us to be found. And, sometimes, all we can do is just breathe.

But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable.
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, now.
Sing it if you understand.
And breathe, just breathe…