Gwen's POV:
The wind coldly bit at my cheeks as I scurried over to a tanned-leafed fall tree to pop the multicolored drugs into my mouth. I'd been on the verge of swallowing more than 2 pills and just OD-ing at certain points in my life, but luckily, I had managed to pull myself out of those.
But at this moment, I felt blood rush through my veins as I clasped the orange casing in my cold hands and fiddled with the lid trying praying that it would pop open fast for me to just get one of those suckers, into my mouth.
I wasn't in the state of wanting to end my life, because that routine got old. I just wanted something to numb down the anxiety and moodiness brewing in my mind. I just wanted to swallow one tablet and go on with my life. But knowing how that would go, I was gonna be sorely disappointed.

Nothing could really numb the anxiety and self hate, and depression, and destructive thoughts and anger, and just disappointment my life was filled with. It was always there.
My life wasn't awful and painful to live through physically, but emotionally- it left me drained.
My depression and anxiety-which started from a very young age (oldest being 8)- left every little thing in my life magnified. It made everything thing turn black and then in that very dim moment, it spark a light of hate or panic.
Everything around me seemed to really get to me, and until I was diagnosed with Bipolar (age 13, I think), my life was a living hell. though others saw my life as average and not that bad, I,sadly, saw it as awful. Grades dropped, happiness dropped, my health dropped and my brother died.
I saw it all as a way of telling me what I knew as life was coming to an end. It was all I knew from living with depression- where you seem to feel sad for no reason (at times)- and it really seemed to affect me.
But now, I was going to finish High-school. No more bullying and stress, and hopefully, I would find a way to swallow my medication without fear of everyone calling me crazy.

I quickly popped the medication into my mouth and swallowed it with some water as I zipped up my backpack and continued my walk home.
Maybe I'll even go draw in the park today...
-

I was slightly late, but I didn't really care- as usual. Every time I took my meds, I would fall into a care-free state and would just wander around the neighborhood- if my mother let me.
It was now 7:09pm and I had spent the past four sketching my thoughts out on an almost-used up sketchpad in the shade of bronze-leafed willow out in the local park.
I admit, I was a good artist, but not willing to flaunt my talent to whoever passed me by unless of course, they asked to see it. Then flaunt I will my friend, then flaunt I will...But today, as suspicious eyes grazed over me perched in my leather jacket and ripped jeans, I ignored them. I was doing what I always did- drew and listened to music. Since I was little, my mother and I would splay out chart-sized manilla paper and crayons and just go crazy with out imagination, but when puberty hit and I became a little angsty bitch, we drifted apart.
That and the fact that after 4 years of homeschooling, I had to go back to public school and so our time together was cut short. But I still held onto those little fragments of memories.
Glazing canvases with paint and gluing rice grains onto cards in spirals and patterns. It all made my childhood worth living. And luckily, I could always see that in the painting hung in our now ugly and abandoned living room that was glazed in scarlet and purple with navy blues and light pinks, depicting one of my mother's old pieces...
She was an artist like me back in high-school. Drew a lot and also majored in graphic arts and literature in college as she tried to pursue her dream. I mean, she was held back when she married my father, a consultant who was in the army while he was studying economics and banking- thus meeting my mother- seeing as they had me and my brother and then my mom had to stay home and take care of us and decided to become a housewife.
All that was just thrust right into my face whenever I sat legs open on our couch and flipped through channels on TV.
And so I in a way, mimicked my mother because I aspired so hard, to be like her. She was my role model. My hero.
A young, independent woman who lives her passions and is fearless enough to hang a massive canvas (and not to mention paint murals on her children's bedroom walls). I wanted to be her so bad.
But now she was a broken woman. No longer strong but weak. Not as if she couldn't do anything on her own, but she just didn't want to. She relied on a pack of smokes and alcohol to get her through the days, all because of all the events in her life.
Much like myself, my mother was bullied in high-school for being different. She wasn't a skinny blonde beauty with blue eyes and gorgeous perfect features, but instead a dark haired, brown eyed "weirdo" who still kicked ass and didn't even care if people didn't like her. She just lived her life. Though snarky comments would offend her at times, what really hurt her was how she was used in high-school. Had her heart broken and kind of became so insecure that now whatever people said about her love life and emotional state would affect her negatively. She just built up walls around her, until college when she met my dad.
The fell in love and had me and my brother. But the direction my dad's relationship with my brother took caused my mum to break down. Alcohol and staying out till late were the main factors. What she used to hide her pain. But I could see past it. We all could. And so she quit. But replaced it with inhaling nicotine through a tiny portable cylinder she tucked between her fingers and brought to her lips. She felt good at the moment and we thought it ended, but...let me put it this way, you see my mum lighting up a cigarette, you know something's wrong.
And this caused me to be upset with my mother. The way she transformed into something like this. Someone drowning her sorrows in smoke. Heck, she was no better than an alcoholic.
Her ways disgusted me, and she disgusted me. But I couldn't blame her because it wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault she became so fucked up much as it's not anyone's fault that they're depressed, or bipolar or anxious or blind or crippled or even point blank suicidal. No one hopes for these things, but we all turn back to the main cause of these- nature.
The bitch makes us this way and we live lives hating ourselves and struggling. People don't want pity from others or themselves, but yet everyone else feels sorry for them. People don't want to be segregated, but they are.
We're all the way we are because these are our lives. And apparently, life fucking sucks.

I chucked my boots at the wall as I shuffled for my house keys in my backpack, standing at my front door.
Everything was silent and the only sound to be heard was the cooking channel muffled behind the walls of our now seemingly-happier-looking house.
I slipped the keys into the hole and successfully opened the door, revealing my mother wiping the cabinets in the kitchen as the divorce papers were carefully packed on the counter top and the house seemed...brighter.
My mother was now seemingly a part of the house as a smile curled on her red lips as she glanced at me, but remained silent.
I walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the dining table as my brown-bobbed haired mother who was dressed in a black pair of jeans and grey sweater that slimmed her down passed me a glass into which I poured some orange juice, and sipped.

"How was school?" My mother asked, blankly as she rinsed the cloth in the kitchen sink and shook her hands in attempt to dry them.

"The usual. Nothing big really,"I answered as I slurped the remaining juice at the bottom of the glass.

"So is that why you're home so late?"She spoke as she reached into her pocket and got out her lighter, clicking at the tip of the cigarette in her hands and bringing it to her lips.
This bitch...

"No. I was in the park, drawing and trying to buy some time away from home, as usual," I stated tapping on the glass in my hands, causing my mother to sarcastically let out a breath laugh and shake her head.

"So basically staying away from me? Your mother?"she scoffed as she turned around, to face me and removed the cylinder from her lips.

"You're not really a mother-figure are you?" I asked cocking an eyebrow to which she smiled evilly.

"I'm guessing your not in a good mood?"She laughed sourly,"Boy trouble?"She spoke as she placed it back in her probably felt humiliated knowing I just witnessed her indirectly admit she used this as an escape, as she hesitantly returned it to her mouth as her smug expression dropped slightly.

"No, just the fact that my mother is drowning her sadness and problems in nicotine as she signs divorce papers between her and my father," I blankly stated causing her to narrow her eyes at me and take out the cigarette, putting it out and chucking it into a nearby ash tray.

"Why don't you have some respect for the person who brought you into this world, huh Gwen?"She half yelled with a disgusted look on her face as she approached air was now tense, but I truly loved my mother and she loved me. She'd never hurt me and I obviously would never touch a hair on her pretty head (I'd fight off anyone who'd even dare to try do that), I just needed a way to make her stop smoking.

"Because, you don't even have any respect for yourself. You pretend you're fine and happy after everything that has happened to us but you and I both know damn well, mom, you're not!" I spoke raising my voice and it nearly cracking as tears brimmed my eyes."I cal bullshit, and you know it's true. Lies and lies that you're okay when CLEARLY, you're dying inside." I spat as salty water flowed down my cheeks and I stood from my seat and left the room.

"And so you think you can just disrespect me, throw a fit and then leave?" she half screamed as she glared at me.
"We all have problems and some of us deal with them differently. At least this isn't as harmful as your little razor-play,"she spat causing me to flinch and turn to face her.
I was filled with fury now. MY mother knew I was trying my best to mask my depression and get over it and she never brought it up. It was taboo. But at this moment, as she brought up, my self harming-which I even quit a year ago seeing as I realized how dumb it was- I felt the need to hurl all my feelings at her, seeing as she was at the time-if not most- the reason for my self harming.
I believed that she already had burden enough of dealing with my father and brother's death, let alone her recovery from alcoholism, and I was just adding to the problem. And so I would cut. I hated it, but if I wasn't cutting, I was thinking of suicide. All because of her. I had hoped she never found out about my self injury, and when she did, we never spoke of it, because I was afraid she'd think I was doing it for attention., but she promised that she would never and that as a person dealing with depression, she understood and yet here she was, calling me out on it.

"You have the nerve to call me out on my cutting? You of all people? Well guess what mum,"I spoke as my eyes turned red and I was now sobbing,"at times, you were the reason I cut. You and dad, and my stupid depression. This goddamn burden I was born with not only affects me, but you guys too, and so I'd feel this self hate towards myself because I couldn't do anything about it and I felt all this hate upon myself, but yet, when I cut, I never even once felt sorry for myself like you do. You use your problems as a reason to smoke not knowing it affects me too. I'm not saying my problems are worse and yours are irrelevant, but you just feel sorry for yourself and want me to pity, that you even call me out on my past self injury? No, just..no. I didn't even tell you about it because I wanted attention or pity-it being the last thing I want-, I just wanted help. But you still left me and instead of helping me with my depression, you smoked and drank and fucking made our lives a mess. And yours included..." I finished sobbing and red in the face as my mother begun to hysterically cry and scream at me.I thought she'd remain calm, but I saw the fire in her eyes. She was broken.

"Well what do you want from me!? You think I like being such an awful mother?! You think i want to be so weak that I rely on smoking to help me?! I don't,Gwen! Just like I know you don't want to have to deal with your disorder and depression.
You think you have it bad? Try experiencing ALL that you've mentioned 'simply because you hate yourself for being an awful mother' to your 'bipolar and depressed daughter' and you had to carry around another human being in your body for 9 months only to see it get beaten by it's very own father and cut them self and attempt to take their own fucking life, only to be murdered by their friends, How much do you think I HURT Gwen? How fucking much?" By now I felt like complete shit for judging my mother as I realized that she was probably in more pain than I was.

"I fucking tried to get my life back on track after high-school and go to college and get my degree and get married and have kids and live happy ever after, but guess what honey? LIFE IS NOT FUCKING FAIR! You might want a good life, but you just have to take whatever life throws to you and deal with it. Be it through cutting, drinking or smoking, just deal with it. That's why I smoke okay? So that instead of whining about how crap my life is and complaining, I fucking deal with it. Just like you need to Gwen.
Life is a bitch and always will be. For some not that much, but if you happen to be in what you consider the worst case, either change it or fucking deal with it. For your case I'd advise you to just wait for death..."she finally finished off with a heavy breath as she re-lit another cigarette,placed it in-between her lips and walked up to her room, leaving me with what she had said, which was right.
Life isn't fair. And so I was left with that thought flooding my mind and tears flooding my eyes as I sat back down at our dining table and buried my face in my hands feeling completely broken much like my mother.

A while later I went up for a shower to freshen up my mind though it was now filled with completely pessimistic thoughts spat from the mouth of my mother who was now probably asleep.
It was 1:27am and I stepped out of my clothes into the hot steamy water and attempted to clean myself.
Having finished off, I got dressed in a grey baby-doll fit tee and some sweatpants and made my way for the fridge.

I had the whole night out. Not like all the other 17 year olds, but much like my own. I was to eat my feelings deep within some left over cookies and cream ice cream, listen to music and maybe watch TV, and then go call Mal to cheer me up and go to bed.

I pulled out my phone and begun blaring Happiness by Three Days Grace as I walked over to the fridge, grabbing th cold container of heavenly goodness out of the freezer and reaching for a spoon from the dish rack soon I walked back over to dining table and treating myself to coldness against my teeth as sadness filled my mind.
I sat there as Adam Gontier's heavenly voice filled my ears and I felt myself begin to break. My vision got blurry and I felt myself weaken and begin to sob heavily.

I hated myself right now. I was in a state of questioning my existence because I realized I was a shitbag for selfishly ignoring my mother's problems and merely focusing on my own.
I felt like I had hurt her even more now, which was really what I tried to avoid. Hurting her like life did. But now I was no better than depression and the universe itself. I had become what I hated, and this triggered my mind to go upstairs into the bathroom and inflict pain on myself, but then I realized that would be dumb.
Why hurt yourself physically when the emotional and psychological pain is enough? (shit, I sound so emo now).
What I feel is the equivalent to driving a knife through my chest, so why pity myself and harm myself..It's pointless really.
All of my mum said, people like me should just wait for death, because life isn't fair.

I groggily got up ready to shuffle my way back into bed and hope to die in my sleep as I sealed the now almost empty in of ice cream and got up to place it back in the cold freezer as I left my phone on the table.
I wasn't going to call Mal. Why spread my depressing and pessimistic thoughts to him?
Although I knew Mal wasn't as weak as me enough to "catch" depression fro me, I still felt myself neglect the urge to call him as I dried the tears in my eyes but still continued crying as I reached for my phone on the table but my eyes met another object in place. My mum's pack of smokes.
She probably left them here when she went to her room after our little argument.

I was tempted to pick them up but yet tempted to leave them there, and yet I ignored that second voice telling me to go straight to my room,. I was beaten down an broken that now anything destructive that would at least make me feel again seemed heavenly.
I slowly placed my fingers on the packaging and fiddled with one between my fingers as I walked out the kitchen, leaving my phone on the table and picking up a matchbox instead. I made my way to the front door and walked out into the cold weather, feeling my adrenaline pump and finally have me knowing I was alive.
Hesitantly I felt my jaded self, walk to the corner of the house and boldly light the cylinder as I questioned myself.
I didn't want to smoke, and become like my mother, but she was right. "Either change it or deal with it"and right now, I was most numb that I just needed to feel alive, once more.
I slowly placed the cigarette to my lips as i inhaled it into my lungs causing me to cough at first but feel myself elate.

Who knew something so dangerous could make you feel alive again...

TAAAADDDDAAAAA! *Fireworks bitch*
So I hope this chapter was enjoyable, I really enjoyed writing it and it helped me get some things off my chest so enjoy and tell me what you thought. I thought it was actually the best I've written and I'm really proud of it because I just thought you guys deserve a good nice ling chapter, so her.
I also just want to thank all you readers/ followers/favorite-rs/ reviewers for supporting me with this story. It means a lot, so if you could maybe tell your friends about it and spread the word that would be an awesome early Christmas gift and I would love you guys forever (still will even though you don't because you're fucking awesome).
Special thanks to TheGypsyBelle, she is frickin kickin, and I love her always, check 'er out on here and she even has a youtube :)

SO leave a review telling me what you thought. Sorry no Mal POV, just felt that only Gwen's would be good, but maybe next chapter will have his, no promises though.

Have a good weekend/week guys, and hope you all stay happy! ^_^.
Also, I have my final exams, this week ON MONDAY AND TUESDAY AND I'M KINDA ANXIOUS so please wish me luck and keep me in your prayers.
I'll also be on break for 4 months so you know what that means...MORE UPDATES HOPEFULLY BECAUSE I"LL FINALLY HAVE A JOB TO PAY FOR INTERNET BECAUSE MY PARENTS REFUSE TO GIVE ME MONEY!
So yeah,...

Thanks guys, I truly love you all..
Li.