"Wake up Lachlan," Preston said, shaking my shoulder. I groaned and just pulled a pillow over my head.

"Get up you butt!" Mitch shouted.

"No," I groaned.

"Get up!" Mat screamed, flopping on top of me.

My eyes snapped open and I tried to push Mat off. "No! You're such a jag! Get off of me fatty!" I joked. Mat sat up and put on a fake hurt expression.

"What did you call me?!" he snapped.

"Nothing…" I said innocently. We all started laughing.

"It's nice for things to be back to normal," Vikk said in a more serious tone.

"Yeah, and again, I'm sorry," Rob agreed.

"Honestly though, we should stop saying sorry to each other. We'll start arguing," I said.

"And why is it bad to be arguing about something like that?" Vikk asked.

"Because it'll never end. Now all off you get downstairs and eat," Preston interrupted.

"Fine mom," Mat mumbled sarcastically. Preston kicked Mat's shin and sent him a glare. They were so childish.

Once we were downstairs we all started eating and talking together. It was actually how I imagined this trip being. I thought that everything would be as perfect as it seemed in recordings, I just didn't think it would take three days for it to start.

"Um, Lachlan?" Mitch asked, cutting into a gap in our conversation.

"Hmm?" I said with my mouth full of cereal.

"I just wanted to let you know that Preston and I signed you up for an appointment for tomorrow. I know it's so soon but Preston did say as soon as possible," Mitch explained.

"Oh, okay," I mumbled.

I didn't want to eat my cereal anymore. My stomach felt bad again. I was scared already. I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew it would be the only thing that would help. And I'm sure that what I tell the therapist will be told to my friends since I wasn't the one who came up with this idea. If I couldn't tell this to my friends than how could I tell a stranger?

"Don't be so worried, Lachlan. I understand how you must feel. I know you don't want to talk about this but you have to. None of us want you to do that again. And… I'll admit that I had to see a therapist too. It was because of depression, just not… to this extent," Vikk admitted.

"Really?" I asked, looking at him.

"Yeah… I actually haven't told anyone else that…" he answered.

"I would've never expected that someone as happy as you was ever depressed to start with," Rob said.

"I think Vikk's point is that after going to therapy he's happy now," Mitch pointed out.

"It's just… I mean, I've seen therapists before, I won't lie about that. It's just that I've never been as depressed as I… am now. I've never done anything like that before and I'm just scared," I confessed.

I finally told them that I've gone to therapy before. It felt like I was a little less of a liar as I was before I said that. But I still stumbled while talking. I also just admitted that the wave of depression hasn't quite passed yet. It seemed like it has, but the only things that have left are the scissor and mirror shards since they were away.

"But, again, this is why you need to go. And if you want to tell us anything before you tell your therapist just remember that we'll listen," Preston assured me.

"You don't have to say anything, but… You can tell us what you felt that made you feel the need to do what you did…" Mat muttered.

"Believe me, I want to tell you guys; I hate the feeling of keeping something like this cooped up. I just… I don't know how to phrase anything. I always end up being misinterpreted because I try too hard at being understood…" I tried to explain. I couldn't even explain that. God, I'm a failure.

"Yeah, I can see that…" Rob joked. I rolled my eyes and tried to finish my cereal. I couldn't. My appetite had vanished.

"Erm… You know what? I'm going to go up to bed. I want to take a day off for recoding and just spend some time alone," I said, standing up. Preston grabbed my wrist before I could leave the kitchen.

"Please don't do anything stupid. I know that when your alone you tend to think different things; it happens to everyone," Preston said quietly. I nodded and went upstairs.

I wasn't planning to do that. I just wanted to see if I could come up with another way to explain how I feel other than talking. All the words jumble together when I realize there are people listening. I don't understand it. I keep my word when I say that I don't understand myself.

I couldn't come up with anything. I wasn't an artist, or a musician – I had no talent. I liked looking at art and I loved listening to music, I just couldn't create either. Then I basically slammed my face into the wall as I realized that there was an obvious answer I was ignoring. I keep a note book with me that I always would write in when I just wanted to vent out my emotions. I totally forgot about it and I brought it with me.

I'm also not a writer, but having my face shoved deep into my notebook with a pencil tearing at the paper just blurs everything around me. All my problems get channeled into the pencil and the piece of paper is suddenly my best friend, the one thing that can stand all the things crammed in my brain that I can't speak. Yup, definitely not a writer.

I dug through my suitcase and found it buried at the bottom. The last time I wrote in it was probably the night after the God-forsaken Skype call. But the things I wrote in before that probably still had the same meaning as they did now. After reading through it I made up my mind: I'd add one more page then give it to them. I couldn't see a better way of explaining things.

Before you get all judgmental, what gets written in it is probably way different than what first comes to mind. It's not a journal, it's not a diary, it's not anything like that. It doesn't explain my day; it's just my flat out emotions. It's basically depression on paper.

I took out a pencil and opened to the next blank page. It wasn't hard coming up with what to write with. I think that part of me was aching to let the emotions out and by the time I let them they were pouring. I had no clue how much time had passed by the time I finished. It didn't look like too much time had passed, but I didn't even care because I had written down a lot. I put a sticky note on it saying to read it and left it on the coffee table in the living room.

I know you guys are going to be reading this. I'm sorry I couldn't say this as an actual person rather than a sheet of paper, but I can't. It's too hard. When it comes to explaining stuff like this I never end up explaining it right – it's a lot of pressure on me.

Before you guys are jags and call me out for having a diary, this isn't a diary. I know it may seem that way at first, but it's not, it really isn't. Read the rest of this and I assure you that you won't be laughing at how girly I sound.

This is where I vent out my emotions. Again, it's not a diary. I won't even try to sugar coat it, this whole thing is just filled with what goes on in my head and that place is pretty dark. I'm usually not that serious, but I just never show it. I don't like making people feel uncomfortable, but I seem great at doing it.

I'm sorry. I never meant for you guys to see them. I never thought I would resort to this to start with. I already told you briefly how I felt yesterday and to be honest, I was surprised I managed to get those words out, but I realized that I really needed to write this stuff down.

When I joined that Skype call and found out that you guys were talking about me, I felt alone again. I never really had that many friends growing up, and my family never seemed to care enough to notice me. Having you guys as friends is honestly the only thing keeping me sane. I'm not trying to call any of you out. I'm just trying to tell you why I took it so badly.

To be honest, there was always a small part of me that suspect that you guys didn't like me. I always tried to ignore it, but I was always the odd one out. It just seemed like out of everyone we record with, I'm the only one who gets picked on as much as I do. And to know it was sort of true…

I can completely understand why though. I don't like people like that either. It's one of the reasons I hate myself so much. What Rob and Mat said yesterday was true, there are differences, there are lines that can be drawn, but something inside of me is telling me that I only did this to get attention. I know for a fact that I wanted to die, I wanted it to end very badly, but I was too scared. I would never bring up the courage. I knew that I'd leave people feeling guilty, even though they're innocent. Even though I was convinced that you guys hated me, I knew that anyone would feel guilty with the thought that they were the cause of a death, whether or not it was someone worth grieving for.

I was too scared to die and I wanted someone to notice the pain I felt. My words would never accurately explain my mental pain so the next thing that came to mind was show the physical equivalent. But I started doing it without thinking. I was blinded by the pain. I was blinded by my selfishness.

You guys are still my friends now and that's all that matters. One day I'll have to tell my family and maybe even my fans, but I know that I shouldn't think too far ahead. Thanks for being there.

I'm sorry.

3 Lachlan