{Ryder P.O.V.}
My name is Ryder Jackson. I'm a junior in high school. I like being alone (actually not really, but anyway), Doritos, baseball, and movies. I also want to die.
Please don't pity me, that is, if you even care, because it's what I want. Nobody seems to understand that. But then again, now that I really think about it, I don't talk to anybody. I usually sit alone in the cafeteria and that's the way I like it. I don't bother anyone and nobody bothers me. Well, most of the time. Some of the times when people get bored they whisper profanities as they pass but I usually ignore them. I don't worry about those cunts anyways. Peasants.
Honestly if someone was to come into this classroom right now and start shooting, I wouldn't mind. It would give me a little peace of mind. But with my luck, the bullets would miss me by merely an inch.
It's only second period and I already want to leave. I'm only happy when I'm in my room with the door shut listening to my music surrounded by my friends.
No, not friends like human friends, friends like razors, pencil sharpener blades, and sewing needles. Those are true friends. They can help and hurt. But only when you want them to. These friends respect your decisions. These friends don't give you flawed advise and then judge you behind your back when you use said advise. These friends don't call you annoying and then tell you they're always there for you five minutes later. These friends know that's not friendship.
I sit in the back of the classroom, where nobody ever sits so I can have a little peace and quiet. I honestly almost always have peace and quiet but as soon as someone starts talking to me I just need it back and I get agitated.
"Ryder? Do you mind telling us what's going on in the book?" Mrs. Prick asked. No. Her name isn't Mrs. Prick, I just call her that because she is in fact, a prick.
"Well... Let's see, this chicks like twelve and falls in love with that guy who probably only wants to get his di-" I start to say only to be cut off by Mrs. Pricks shrill voice.
"That's enough. We don't need a smart reply. Thank you very much." She said as the class openly laughed, not with me, but at me.
"Loser actually had some balls" I hear a girl who wasn't nearly wearing enough clothing whisper loudly to her best friend who happened to be wearing less clothing, if possible.
I was about to reply when I got a pink slip of paper from Mrs. Prick that could only mean one thing. I groan and slip it in my pocket. This was going to be a horrible day.
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I will love you till I die
Teen FictionDo you ever just wonder why things happen. Like, one day, we could just stop and say, "Nope I'm not gonna." And just refuse to live. But the thing is. There ARE people who do that. People give up on life. But they don't succeed in suicide and end...
