Warning: HEAVY ANGST! Well...It's not the worst of mine, but it's pretty...Interesting. This specific chapter is dedicated a certain girl who went by the name "Glitchy". I don't know what happened to her, but if you see this...Please don't get mad.

The punishment I got was not pretty, but the how I chastised myself was worse. I won't go into the bloody details(yes! I said bloody. Don't make a big fuss) but I was broken, physically and mentally from both encounters, to say it decently. So there I was in my room for hours, crying on my bed, cutting and getting blood all over the mattress.

My blood. That thought made me feel sick. But I couldn't stop myself.

It didn't help that fucking One Direction was playing on our neighbor's radio.

"F**k you!" I shouted out the window, they didn't seem to hear me.

Somehow I managed to finish the homework Feliciano brought home for me and thought of several different ways to apologize to Kiku. Kiku wasn't one to hold grudges so hopefully he'd accept the apology when I made it.

I was sincerely sorry, really! If you don't believe me, tough luck. I'm not always the bad boy people make me out to be.

Bad boys don't do art, I thought as I fingered the red three-ringed binder on my bed. Most people don't know this, but I love to draw. Of course, I'm no good at it. Feliciano's much better.

Sketching fruit is one of my passions. Usually having a HB pencil in my hand and a drawing pad on my lap will make me feel better, but today it just made me want to snap the lead in half and tear the paper into an infinite amount of confetti. The thought almost made me laugh: Shredding expensive art paper and tossing it out that window, watching it scatter in the wind, or, using it for Easter next year by putting some in Feli's Easter basket. D**mit! I was starting to think like my little brother, that happy, cheerful, perfect little...bastard...

I broke down in tears again. D**m this! I scolded myself. Since when do you have crying jags?! It's beneath you! But was it? It definitely wasn't below Feliciano. And if I was below Feliciano...I cursed again and decided to amuse myself by staring around my bedroom.

A stuffed wolf named Katerina was slumped in the corner, close to the large rectangular window. She is quite old, since I got her when I was four, but still incredibly soft. I went over to the corner and picked her up. It was cute, truthfully but...wait WHAT!? I'm too old for stuffed animals! Annoyed, I tossed Katerina onto my bed and went to look out the window.

There was an Italian flag flying in the backyard; My idea. Since I was of Italian heritage, I thought it was appropriate. I was incredibly patriotic to the country I had never set foot on. F**k America!

Even though I've never been to Italy, I've been to many other places. A framed picture of Feliciano and I sat on the desk. Looking at it made me feel sad, for it was from a time when I was happy. We had gone on vacation to the Maine coast for a weekend. Feliciano was finishing up a sandcastle and I was sticking a small Italian flag on the top. Ah...The good old days...

My eyes then landed on my, now bloody, knife, a replica of a ceremonial Japanese suicide sword, given to me by my grandfather when he visited Japan. "You have to learn how to defend yourself, Nonno can't protect you forever!" He had teasedwhile giving me the knife. "Here, this will help."

Looking at the knife now, it seemed to mock me. The only thing I needed to protect myself from was myself. Samurai used these for suicide. What if I... LOVINO ROMANO VARGAS! I screamed at myself, banging my head against the wall, Since when are you suicide?!

That was I stupid question. I was always suicidal and nothing could change that. But not like this. I resented my brother, my grandfather, my attitude, but most of all: My life. That was all I could think about when the blade hit my wrist, tearing through the olive-colored skin that covered my skeleton. At first, I felt nothing, which probably meant I was numb from pain. It was as if I had "stabbed" myself with an unsharpened pencil. But it's always possible to sharpen the lead. Then the pain hit. I winced. What had gotten into me?

Gingerly, I removed the blade and safely stored it under the mattress. I found some old shirts and ripped them up for bandages. Grandpa never used band-aids. He said it was bad for the environment.

"LOVINO! TIME FOR DINNER!" Grandpa sing-song voice came from downstairs.

"WAIT ONE F**KING MINUTE, I'M COMING!" I yelled with difficulty while wrapping my wound.

F**k, if only he knew.

I apologize. My Lovi will be like this for awhile now. By the end of this fanfiction, I promise that he will have better control of it. If it's not realistic, tough luck. By the way, the title came from Albania's ESC 2013 song. I was looking around at inspirational titles and stuff and I happened upon "Identity". Also, chapter two's title was supposed to be "Diversity in Teachers? Nah, They're all the same" but unfortunately, I couldn't fit that. :( I liked it a lot better that way. Another side note: I have nothing against One Direction. In fact, when I was younger, I used to really love 1D. I hope I haven't offended anyone with this.