After lunch and another few hours of boring and unnecessary classes, we were given permission to leave. I boarded on my bus and went over to sit with Gil and Goby, but instead of usually letting me sit with them, they made me sit alone.

How abnormal of them.

I went back to reading my book, but then I felt a slight nudge against my shoulder. I looked to seat right next to me to find the one and only, Oona.

I looked back to Gil and Goby, who were clutching their stomachs and dying of laughter. I really should've brought a hammer to school. . .

Then, I felt something fall gently on my shoulder. I looked back to see Oona's head sitting lightly on my shoulder.

"Um, hi?" I greeted her awkwardly.

She pressed a finger against my lips, and flipped a page in my book.

I guess you can say that we were reading together, and surprisingly, she and I had the same reading pace, which is quite rare since I'm the fastest reader in the school.

I actually forgot about Gil and Goby, and my own problems just by this one single moment.

Time flew by so fast, that I almost forgot about my own bus stop!

I exited the bus and started walking my way home, but I realized I was being followed.

I whipped my head around and grabbed my stalker's arm only to see Oona, again.

I immediately let go of her hand and I felt my face heating up.

"Um, sorry about that," I apologized and started running home.

But as I was sprinting my way to my house, I heard her shouting at me.

"Midnight!"

Midnight? What does she mean by midnight? Does she want to meet at midnight? And if she does, where?

I finally got to my house and unlocked the door.

"I'm home," I said as I entered the house.

No answer.

I forgot that Mom was probably working. Timothy is probably in California by now.

Alone. Just like last year.

Ever since Dad left, Mom ended up working every single day. Even on birthdays and holidays. Day-offs didn't exist.

Timothy also had to work, that is, until he got into a college in California.

Now I'm here. Alone.

I went upstairs to my room and tossed my backpack to the side.

I flopped onto my bed and started pondering.

Why do I still exist? Before that, how do I still exist?

I've had depression for years now, and I still don't know how I'm not dead.

I hate myself, and the hatred has built up so much, I could write about 20 sonnets about it.

Why do I hate myself? I don't know. Do I have a reason for hating myself? Who knows.

But, I can't help but wonder why. Why am I still here?

I've swallowed pills, but ended throwing them up. I've been tempted to stab myself. I've taught myself how to tie a noose. Despite all of this, I'm still alive.

I'm suicidal as well, but I don't cut. Cutting isn't the only way of self-harm.

I beat myself up. I will beat myself by hitting myself with heavy objects, which is why I have bruises all over my legs and arms.

Nobody knows about it.

No one can know about.

I heard my phone start ringing and I quickly answered the call.

"Hello? Who is this?" I asked.

"It's Gil!" he screamed on the other end.

"Damn, Gil. You didn't have to scream," I complained as rubbed my ear.

"Sorry. Gosh. Anyways, how's your girlfriend?" he asked in a far too innocent voice.

"She is not my girlfriend, and you should've just let me sit with you guys," I said angrily.

"Well, you never know. You might end up liking her," he suggested.

"Why do you guys always try to hook me up with someone? I'm perfectly fine when I'm alone," I asked.

"Oh really?" he questioned. "Think about that. Call me when you're ready."

He hung up.

Am I really alright when I'm alone?

Of course I am!

I pushed the thought aside and pulled out my homework. After about an hour, I finished up and went downstairs for dinner.

There was hardly anything in the fridge, since the last time we went to the super market was about a week ago.

I'm kinda bad at making dinner out of scraps. Guess I'll just skip dinner.

I trudged upstairs and went back to my room.

I was bored and I had nothing to do.

Usually when I'm bored, I would write poems, but now-

Wait. The poem.

I pulled the small scrap of paper with the poem of a bridge.

Under the wood bridge

Two differences may meet

A new bud blossoms

I know that she wants to meet, that's for sure, but I don't know if there is a bridge aroun-

The wooden bridge at school. That's the only wooden bridge around here.

I pulled the other scrap of paper that had the word 'midnight' on it.

She wants to meet me at the school bridge at midnight.

She's quite clever to word her demand in a form like that.

I wonder what she wants, though.

I loved how I told you guys in the last chapter that I was thinking of taking the story slow, yet I jumped into Nonny's life story so quickly.