A/N. Thank you to everyone who read this story. It really means a lot to me because of what I've gone through and what a lot of us have gone through. My hope is that it at least makes you stop and think, if only for a second longer than usual. Sometimes a second is all it takes.

Anyway, this chapter is a little personal. Actually, they'll all be personal. Because it may be Logan's thoughts of other people, but really it's my thoughts of people in my own life. This one in particular, is something that I think we can all relate in someone or another. So please remember, that you are never alone. I'll let the rest of this do the talking for me. Italics are used for song lyrics and flashbacks. I don't own anything.

Reason Number One: "The Others".

"You can take everything I have. You can break everything I am like I'm made of glass, like I'm made of paper. Go on and try to tear me down, I will be rising from the ground like a skyscraper! Like a skyscraper!" -Skyscraper by Demi Lovato.

I don't know what I was thinking when I started making this list. What good would it do to me or anyone else for that matter? Would it really make a difference? Maybe I'd be better off writing all of this down in a journal. After all isn't this kind of thing better kept private? Then again, maybe not. Maybe it's better this way, letting others get a glimpse of the feelings I've kept locked away for so long. Maybe it would provide a healthy sort of release for me, giving me the freedom to get all of my thoughts out of their prison where they haunt me day and night. Maybe, just maybe, it would help and encourage others who struggle with the same thing. To let them know that they aren't alone.

So why these cassette tapes? Aren't they a bit archaic? I mean, does anyone actually have a cassette player anymore? Do they still sell them in regular stores or do you have to search for them online or go to an antique store? Possibly. I suppose that the antique store thing was a bit of a stretch or an exaggeration. Most of you probably have one of these handy pieces of equipment in your attic or basement or you know someone who does. I think that's why I chose the tapes. Because it wouldn't be something posted online that you could put off, ignore, or even forget about. It's not in the form of a letter that you could rip up or burn without taking one glance at it. These tapes are more than that. They piqued your curiosity, didn't they? It forced you to do a little work to find the answer. And once you found that answer, well, let's just hope that it won't be easy for you to forget.

In case you're wondering what you're listening to, since I have yet to explain it very well, let me spare you the agony of waiting any longer. My name is Logan Mitchell. I am seventeen years old. And I suffer from depression. It's not the kind of depression that requires me to drug myself so that I wind up staring off in the distance while those around me regard me with pity or disgust. But it is the kind of depression that makes me slightly more fragile than I would like to be. Want to know a secret? I think we all have this kind of depression at some point in our lives. The difference in everyone is how we handle it.

Why am I telling you this, you might be wondering? Well. If you do handle your depression in the right way (which is different for everyone by the way), then you'll be okay. You just have to find out what works for you. I don't mean that you should find temporary means of escape in drugs or alcohol or other stupid, idiot stuff like that. I mean, finding an escape that is more permanent, tangible, one that won't leave you feeling lost, alone, and empty in the end. But more on that later.

Let me just admit something. I haven't always handled my depression in the correct way. I let things people have said or done get to me. I've let them stay with me, burying themselves deep under my skin until the right moment comes and, like a disease, they come roaring to the surface, destroying my optimism. And by destroying my optimism, I mean, really destroying my optimism. I mean, leaving me with nothing but deep, dark thoughts that scared me, Suicidal thoughts.

It started in middle school. How could anyone forget middle school? Or high school for that matter? Those six years of hell on earth for anyone at some time in their education. We were bullied, beat up on, made fun of, shunned, ignored, and told that we just weren't good enough. And sometimes. . . sometimes we took our hurt feelings out on others.

The way I always viewed those six years, was much like Darwin's Survival of the Fittest Theory. Only the strong survive. Me? I wasn't strong. I didn't take my feelings out on others but I never told anyone of my troubles. I never felt like I could trust anyone enough. So I let it all happen. If you were one of those people that fought to stay on top, then this part is for you. "The Others". It doesn't have anything to do with the TV show, Lost. I never watched Lost. There was absolute zero logic in that show and I like things to make at least a little sense. No. "The Others" was just what I came up with as the first of my thirteen reasons.

What reason, you ask? The reason I have decided not to kill myself. Sounds a little backwards, doesn't it? Well, so what if it is? Because one thing I've learned in life, is that if something isn't working for you, then make a few changes. Maybe then things will work out better. So now that I've finally reached the point of these tapes, let's begin, shall we?

To those who beat me up with their fists and their words. To those who used me for their convenience or to make them look better. To those who shunned or ignored me because I wasn't into the "cool things" you were into like underage (and illegal by the way) activities like drinking, drug use, smoking and sex. To those who were my friends and then moved onto new friends, shoving me away from you because you didn't want to risk your popularity. And last, but certainly not least, to those who his behind anonymous rumors and messages who told me that I was worthless and that I should kill myself to rid everyone of the parasite that I was in their otherwise perfect little lives. To those who pushed me so close to the edge that there were times I almost fell off, thank you.

I know what you're thinking. Why am I thanking you if all you did for the years we were forced together make my life a living nightmare? Why am I thanking you if all you did was torture me and want to kill myself? Well, because like I said before, this whole thing is a little backwards. The reason you're on these tapes is because you're a reason I decided not to kill myself. Because that would have be giving you exactly what you want. Tell me, why in the world would I give you what you want? No, I'm not going to end my life because you told me to. There's no reason for that. Absolutely none. It's my revenge to you.

Don't worry, that's all I'll do to you. I'm not going to find a way to get back at you fifteen years from now. I'm simply going to ignore everything you tell me and everything you do to me from now. That's all. And you know something? It's more than enough for you and for me. I know it'll drive you crazy when you finally realize how little your words and actions affect me now. You'll have to step up your game, maybe step out of the shadow and anonymity and tell me in person what you really think of me. But it won't work. Nothing will. You can't change my mind. Might as well give up.

Hold on, you're not getting off the hook that easily. First, let me at least attempt to teach you a lesson to soften your heart, or maybe give you a heart, since some of you seem to be lacking that particular necessity. Just listen for a little while. Instead of doing all the talking like you usually do, just listen for once in your life.

Why? Why do you feel it necessary to tear other people down? Why can't you just be a little kinder to the people you come across in your life? What did we do to deserve all the crap you continue to throw at us? Maybe you don't have the greatest life. Maybe behind that smirk, you're actually hurting just as much as the rest of us lowlifes. If that's the case, than I really am sorry that you have to suffer. But does it really make you feel better to hurt others? You're just continuing the cycle of abuse that you're trapped in. Get out of whatever terrible situation you're caught in right now and then get help. There's people waiting and willing to help. All you have to do is ask. And then? Treat people with the love that you so badly desire. It'll come back around, trust me.

Ready for some specifics? Don't worry, I won't use names. You can all remain anonymous like I know you all love to. You all know who you are anyway. That's all that matters. Let's focus on rumors here, shall we? Rumors are always fun.

Unnamed Girls. Remember that time you asked me out? We were in eleventh grade. You were one of the prettiest most popular girls in high school. Actually it had been that way ever since grade school. Look how far we've come. Or not. Anyway, I couldn't believe it. You asked me, Logan Mitchell out. The geek. The nerd. The one who was an orphan and had his three best friends tagging after him, taking care of him like he couldn't take care of himself. In a word, I was pathetic. So why you would ask me out was a complete mystery. Not to my friends though. They said that you must have finally come to your senses. Right.

Let me ask you something. Did you mean to stand me up? Make me wait all by myself for an hour in the diner before you came in with the quarterback? Or did you really and truly just. . . forget? Yeah. I'm so sure that you forgot. The crowd of friends that laughed at my expense was just a coincidence right? Sure. What about your friend? The one who walked over to my table, acting all sympathetic and then sat down saying that we could hang out.

Of course, us "hanging out" mostly involved her trying to have sex with me right in the booth. Maybe that's a little extreme. But it didn't help when she suddenly pushed me off (ironic since that's what I had been trying to do since she started shoving her tongue down my throat. It didn't help that thanks to the fact that she had been all over me, her clothes were a little. . . askew. It didn't help that she slapped me and then hurried away, close to tears, back to her friends. That's all it took.

Suddenly, geeky Logan Mitchell had cheated on his girlfriend and tried to rape her best friend. Suddenly, Logan Mitchell had a reputation. None of it was true of course. It never even left outside the circle of the student body. None of the teaching staff or parents ever heard about that little incident. Because it wasn't true and if an adult did find out then. . . well, the truth would be revealed. It's impossible to ever forget a rumor, just so you know.

Unnamed Guys. What idiot said that only girls have to deal with backstabbing among people they consider to be friends? Or was I just lucky? Was I the only one to be welcomed into a circle of the more popular guys, only to be suddenly shoved away the minute he shared anything remotely personal? It was in eighth grade and I had vaguely mentioned that my mom had died when I was six?

Tell me. How in the world did my life story go from having an absent father and a dead mother, to having a alcoholic, abusive dad because his wife had left him for a man fifteen years younger? What kind of sick person spreads rumors about dead people. That was my mother you were lying about. My mother. And okay, maybe I didn't have the greatest relationship with my dad but I still loved him. He never laid a hand on me. Never cursed at me. Never hit me. Never gave me bruises that the whole school would stare at. Those bruises were from you, which makes you even sicker. Beating me up and blaming it on my dad.

Is it still that funny? Rumors are forever. You can't erase them. Once they start. . . they never ever end even if you want them to. Know why? Because they're always more fun than the truth. I don't know why and I don't think I ever will. I'll never understand why people like to make other people's lives so miserable. Here's an idea. Instead of hurting someone, why don't you try making them feel good about themselves? Because I don't know if you've noticed or not, but the bullying does not help. Does it really make you feel better to watch someone else hurt? Of course not. Do you deserve to hurt? No. So why does anyone else deserve to hurt?

So. With that said, here's the next assignment for your long overdue lesson. Listen to the rest of the tapes and then pass them on to the next person on the list. That's all. Maybe, on one of these other tapes where I talk about the people who had a positive impact on my life, you'll actually learn a thing or two. At least that's what I'm hoping. So, what are you waiting for?

A/N. All right. I want to say right away that I was never treated on such a horrible level. Not from the examples that I gave anyway. I also want to say that the effects that are mentioned in this chapter will pop up in future chapters. Lastly, I hope this got a point across. Remember, if you need to talk, I'm here. Love you all! Alcoholic