My Little Secrete

Am I selfish? It's the question I ask myself every day. It's the question that keeps me awake at night. It's the question that I so desperately need an answer to, but I know I will never figure it out. I have a good life, I have a family that care about me and love me, isn't that all everyone really needs to be happy? I do well in school, I get good grades, I have one friend, and wouldn't any other person be happy with that? I know a lot of people that don't have that, and they are still happy, does that make me selfish? Because I'm not happy with what I have? I mean, it's not that I'm not grateful for what I have, I am, I'm just not happy, I have never really been happy. Nobody knows this though, it's my little secrete. I put on a smile whenever I am around others; I make them believe that I'm ok. I really can't believe they haven't even noticed; I must be a good actor. They don't know that I feel empty inside, like I have no purpose, they don't know that I cry myself to sleep every night because I can't stop myself from believing that nobody cares, that everyone would be better off if I actually did what I thought about doing every day. Just ending it.

I sit gazing out my bedroom window, warm tears slowly sliding down my face. It's a full moon tonight, I love how the moonlight shines through my window, it brings me peace. I sit there, pondering the question over and over again, this just brings more tears to my eyes, was I selfish? I felt it, but I couldn't help it. I moved my gaze down to my hip, just above my mini shorts I wear to bed on the hot summer nights, there are faint lines, some newer than others, scars. I do it there so nobody will find out, I am not an attention seeker, and I don't want people to pity me. I do it because it's the only thing that helps me forget about everything, and just focus on the physical pain, sometime, the physical pain is easier to take then the emotional pain. I slowly run my finger over my oldest scar, my first time. I was 12, and had just had a fight with my best and only friend. She said she didn't want to be my friend anymore, apparently I was too boring, always having my nose stuck into a book, or having my earphones in blasting my music to block out the world, and she was right, even I knew it. Reading and listening to music, they were and still are; my escape. When I'm reading a book I can pretend, even just for a moment that I am part of the story, and it makes me feel good, maybe even a little happy, and same with music, I just focus on the words and nothing else. But, I was 12 and she was my only friend, so of course I quietly went home, not making a huge fuss about it, but as soon as I locked myself in my room, I burst into tears. Hannah, she was the only person I believed to have cared about me even a little, and now she just broke up our friendship, now nobody cares. I couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't read through my tears, and listening to music didn't help me forget, that's when I thought of it. Maybe if I was in physical pain, the emotional pain would go away, and it did, for a while.

I sigh and lay my head back down on my pillow; it was the first day of my last year at school tomorrow. Will I even make it until the end of the year? A thought popped into my head, or will it all become too much? I shook my head, I told myself over and over that I did have people that cared about me, I had people that would be sad if I died, but no matter how much I told myself, my brain would not let me believe it. I often wonder what I did so bad in another life that I deserved to feel like this. I am 17 years old and I have never truly been happy in my life, I even cry on every single one of my birthdays, and I don't even know why. I just feel so alone, even though I am surrounded by people. I have tried so hard to be happy, but nothing works.

I close my wet eyes and plug my earphones in, I have it down low and slowly I begin to drift off to a dreamless sleep, like I do every other night.

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"Bea, wake up honey, you need to get ready for school," I slowly opened my eyes, my room was shining in sunlight, it hurt. I sat up in bed and looked over to my mother; she was poking her head in my door like she does every school morning to wake me up. I smiled at her and she left, not suspecting a thing. I quickly grabbed a pair of old faded blue denim shorts and a baggy black shirt that only just past the waistline of my shorts, it was hot. I was used to it though; summer in Australia was always hot. I lived in a small town in Victoria called Mildura, and attended Senior Collage, it was kind of a relief not to have a school uniform anymore, I felt weird being dressed the same as everyone else, yet being so different. I walked quickly to the bathroom before my younger brother Seth could beat me to it. Seth is a year younger and me, and also decided to go to Senior, so this is his first year there, he must be pretty nervous.