AUTHORS NOTE- So I had the worst case of writers block for this story lately. Although I have been able to write other unrelated one shots for other characters, I haven't been able to write anything decent for this fanfiction. There are some epic suggestions for chapters that I tried and totally and completely failed at. Thank gosh for spring break because I finally had the time to write. This chapter is the most depressing one that I think I have ever written.

I think that I haven't been completely honest with you guys and think that this chapter summarizes one of the things that I've been dealing with lately. THIS WILL HAVE A PART TWO THAT I WILL POST SOON. CLARE IS OUT OF CHARACTER. DON'T HATE ME! lol In part one there isn't a lot of fluff if there is any. But in part 2 fluff ensues. Usually I don't write this kind of thing but I needed to tell someone, anyone. I'm sorry if it sucks. Well, here you go.

DISCLAIMER- You think I own Degrassi AND Three Days Grace! Well I think you own a big stash of crank. All I won is a small pug who likes to lick my scars. Gross.

CLARE'S POV

Pain, I can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

Cause I'd rather feel pain

Than nothing at all.

The pressure. Pressure to be beautiful. Pressure to be a supportive child. Pressure to handle two imperfect parents. Pressure to feel. Pressure not to feel. Pressure to fit in. Pressure to be perfect. Be perfect. I have to be perfect. Everyone knows me as Clare; the saint, the smart gifted one, the girl who holds back personal things, the girl who's afraid of others opinions. People always assume I'm some optimistic girl with no worries. How wrong they are.

I can't maintain a happy relationship; I can't fix my parents marriage. I can't keep my friends from getting hurt. I can't let people in. I HATE THIS! I hate it. Hate it. That's why there are slits on my wrists.

No, I don't spell out words. I don't engrave "perfect" or "beautiful" into my arms and legs. But, my razor is my best friend. Maybe it's just a blood fetish. That would explain the vampires.

I'm sitting on my bathtub. The blood is slowly sliding down my arm to trickle into the porcelain tub, Tears slither down my cheeks. The scars aren't long and beautiful but short and ugly. They don't stretch all the length of my arm, no, my guardians might realize if I went outside to school with long sleeves in April everyday. No, they stay within a small portion of bracelets towards my hand. Elastic bands, wish bracelets, and other plastic, metal, and rubber circles apply pressure to the cuts.

I mend them, it's not like I'm suicidal. I just want to be able to feel for once. I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. So if this is what it takes, then so be it. This is for everything that I've done wrong.

Anger and agony

Are better than misery

Trust me

And take my hand

When the lights go out

You will understand.

Fucking sadness. Is this depression? That would explain a lot. I feel worthless. Sobs ran out of my lips and I wiped up the blood. Anger raged through my veins. I hate myself! Ugh! Fuck this place. Fuck this razor. Fuck the blood. Fuck all the people who would be astonished at the fact that I just swore. I'm so lazy! I'm not doing anything but hurt! I'm not worth is. Good thing I'm not holding a knife or I would have turned it on myself.

Deep red liquid still on my skin, I ran to my rom. Grabbing my pillow, I flopped on my bed and screamed. And for the encore; a long string of curse words.

You're sick of feeling numb

You're not the only one

I'll take you by the hand

And I'll show you a world

that you can understand

Stupid voice in the back of my head. Am I hearing things? I only do this so I can feel. That's it. Maybe I'm not the only one, but that doesn't matter. Maybe this si a sin, but I need to feel something. I mean this pain, this torment, suffering, masochism, that's how I feel. No love for me.

Maybe if the lights went out I would comprehend. I'm going to the blade because it's always there. I only have that ever-present voice in my subconscious. It's my savior, even if it's telling me evil things.

My parents were gone. My mom was probably out with a friend, church maybe. Go pray, it'll do you good. My dad? Oh, he's definitely stoned or drunk off his ass over all of his shitty problems. Not my fault.

My anger has disappeared and I cleaned up the remains of my epidemic and the rusty coloring on the assumed pristine tub.

I sighed as I got out the disinfectant. Eli crossed my mind. He always does at this point in my rampage of self destruction. We are on a "break" what ever that means. I wonder if he'd care if I said goodbye. Goodbye to this world would be the easy way out. Leaving him would hurt him, too. I'll have to sleep on it, I thought as I stripped off my pants and climbed into bed with Eli's stolen Dead Hand t-shirt on, the one I'd been wearing the entire day.

AUTHORS NOTE- Hey. I know, not exactly what you would expect of me. Sorry to get all serious on you in that chapter. Now that I told you something that has been bothering me, I'd appreciate it if you would tell me something about you. It can be anything; favorite color to a dark secret. Feel free to shoot me a review or a private message. Well I hope you enjoyed this. If I get enough reviews, I will update tomorrow and on Friday. if not, then I will only update tomorrow. The Last Night by Skillet is the next update, by the way. You can guess how it's going to go.

I suggest you review, because on Friday, I will treat you to some fluffy EClare. Only the best for the best reviews. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you!