Always remember that you are useless. You are filth, you are nothing. You are less than nothing, and are only destined for failure.

Those words, spoken to him by Vicky earlier that day, echoed in Timmy's mind as he swept the razor across his arm, the blood dripping slowly down onto the floor, creating a small puddle. His eyes were dry, no tears visible on his face. Inside, however, he was breaking apart at the seams. He couldn't take any more of this torture.

His fairies, Cosmo and Wanda, were in Fairly World, spending the day with Poof. They hadn't been around much anyway, ever since they had Poof to look after, his fairies had abandoned him, preferring to spend their time with their real child, instead of the one that they had been assigned to. Timmy had been alone all day, with only his thoughts to keep him company. And he had also been cutting himself. It helped to clear his mind of all that had happened to him that day, to erase the sorrow that he felt welling up within him.

He couldn't take the pain. It hurt him too much to think about it, so he just kept cutting. Hoping to forget about how bad his life was, how neglected he felt. This helped him out, and made him feel as though everything truly would be okay, at least until the feeling subsided a few hours later, and then the sadness would come back, as it always does. It never leaves him alone, it is always with him in the back of his mind, whispering things to him.

No one loves you. You're just a waste of space, a failure, a mistake. You have no purpose here, and deep down you know that you never will. Your life Is meaningless, and everyone knows it. You would be better off dead, with no one to mourn you.

Timmy growled loudly, trying to silence the voice in his mind. The grip on his razor tightened, cutting into his hand and drawing a few beads of blood. He stared at them, his expression emotionless, his face blank. He had not found any use in crying about this, as it had only made it even more difficult in the long run.

He glanced at the fish bowl beside his bed, wishing that Cosmo and Wanda would just come back and acknowledge that they had him, too, and not just Poof. Timmy needed them here, now more than ever, but of course they were not anywhere close to him. It seemed like they never were anymore. He was afraid that they had left him to fend for himself against Vicky, as well as anything else life decided to throw at him.

He buried his head in his knees, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, preparing himself for yet another night of loneliness. It was always hard not having his fairies here, but over time he had grown accustomed to their absence, but the pain of their betrayal still lingered in his heart. In the beginning, they had promised him that they would never leave him, that they would always be there for him through thick and thin, no matter the situation.

He had believed them then, but now, Timmy knew those words to be nothing but lies and false promises spoken from the mouths of traitors. To make things even worse for himself, Vicky had been working him harder than she ever had in the past, and insulting him just as harshly, and Timmy had finally reached his breaking point. He gritted his teeth in anger as he brought the blade to his arm, gasping in slight pain as he drew it across his flesh in a line down the length of his arm, stopping only when the pain became too intense for him to continue.

Blood seeped out of the wound, slowly making its way down his arm. Timmy watched in morbid fascination as it dripped onto the floor again, his eyes dull and blank, devoid of any emotion or life as they stared at nothing. He knew that he deserved this, Vicky had told him so. She had said that he deserved to be hurt, he deserved pain and suffering, and he deserved to be miserable. And Timmy knew all of those things to be true.

The smell of his blood hit him, the scent of copper and salt. He did not move to clean the mess he was making, opting to instead just sit there and stare at it, reflecting upon past events. He barely remembered a time when he had been happy, as that had been years ago, before Poof, and before all of this.

Cosmo and Wanda had not yet noticed this change in him, their godchild. Timmy doubted that they would care, though, as they had Poof to worry about now. Besides, he had known for a while now that they had secretly wanted this to happen, that everyone wanted him to do this, especially Vicky and probably Mr. Crocker, as well, and maybe even his own parents, too.

As time went on, he had only gotten sadder and more withdrawn, retreating deeper inside of himself each day. Even Chester and A.J. had eventually abandoned him, choosing to stay away from him, and eventually avoiding him entirely within the first few months of Poof's existence. Because of this, Timmy had come to the conclusion that everyone would abandon him at some point, no matter how seemingly loyal they appeared to be.

As he thought about all that had gone wrong in his life up to this point, he realized that maybe he just wasn't meant to be happy. He hung his head in shame and sorrow, his arm still stinging from the wound that he had inflicted upon himself. He rose to his feet, moving to stand in front of his bedroom mirror that was by his door. He scowled and clenched his fists, disgusted at the person that was staring back at him.

"You are useless, you are filth." He said to his reflection. "You are nothing. You are a waste of space, a mistake. Unwanted by anyone and everyone. You don't deserve to be happy, only suffering. You deserve everything that is happening to you now, and worse." Vicky's words echoed in his head, only magnifying his feelings of despair and hopelessness. He threw his head back and screamed, desperately searching for a way to vent his frustrations.

Why should his family neglect his needs in favor of their own? It made no sense to him. He deserved love, too, just like every other person on Earth. Even his own fairies were ignoring him now. He felt his eyes whell up with tears, so he squeezed his blade harder, hoping that the pain would distract him from the sadness that he was feeling. It did.

Timmy continued to stare at himself in the mirror, with his red, bloodshot eyes, and unkempt hair, and if anyone had though that he looked like he hadn't slept in days, they would be right. Sleep had not come easily for him lately, and he had not been eating very much lately, either. Time had not been good to him, as his life had only gotten worse ever since his family had stopped putting him before themselves.

He wound back his arm and landed a punch onto the mirror, leaving it cracked and broken. Useless, just like he was. He hated himself. Blood dripped from his hand now, cut open from hitting his mirror with so much force, but he barely registered the pain. His eyes wandered to the razor blade, still in his hand. He sighed and brought it to rest against his throat, just wanting to know how it felt. The sharp edge dug into his skin, but it got no reaction out of the child as he lowered it back down to his side.

No one but him truly knew how he felt, and if they ever told him that they did, then they would be lying.

After a few moments of simply standing in the center of his room as his thoughts A feeling of intense despair and sadness briefly consumed him as he begun to cry, falling to his knees, but he quickly recovered and wiped away his tears, he stood up and walked out of his room, seeking to find some way to get his mind off of his problems.

But he still kept his blade with him at all times, in case he ever needed it. He knew that it was helping him cope with all of this, and if it helped, then why stop doing it?