Author's Note: This is my failed attempt at being emo. *hangs head in shame* I found this amongst my old stuff so I cleaned it up, edited it, and posted it here. So . . . enjoy, I guess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid. *cries*

-Ray

Idiot.

Useless.

Failure.

Screw up.

Worthless.

I sigh as I fill my notebook with more words.

Waste of space.

Trash.

Freak.

Mistake.

Good for nothing.

I continue to push the pen onto the paper, creating more hateful words. I never cease my writing, only stopping when I come to the end of the book. "Finished another," I say aloud, but nobody is around to hear me. I pick up the poorly treated notebook and sit on my couch. I curl up and read it as if I were engrossed in a novel, only this is filled with the words I use to describe myself. I read it from cover to cover, from beginning to end. I close the book, stand up, and walk over to my fireplace. After I light the fire I throw the notebook into it, shedding tears as I watch it burn.

I have done this practice many times, and many more I'll repeat it. I don't do drugs. I don't inflict self-harm. I write down all the words that describe pathetic me in a notebook, read everything I have written, and then burn the book while wishing I could burn the feelings just as easily.

After I watch the book reduce to nothing more than ashes, I take off my black, thick-framed glasses and set them on the table. I message my temples as I look at the time. Midnight. It's Saturday now, and I have no plans. I sit back down on the couch and pull my knees to my chest. I wish I wasn't like this, but I am and there's no way to change it.

I'm the social outcast; I've always been. Ever since I was little the other kids would always ignore me. Do you know what it's like to always feel left out or ignored? I do. I wanted so badly to fit in that I had changed who I was more times than I could ever know, but nothing ever worked. I don't even know who I really am. Isn't that sad? All I had ever wanted was to have someone to talk to, but nobody wanted to hear what I had to say. Can you even begin to imagine what's it's like to have nobody but your mind to talk to? I'm the only person whom I can have a conversation with, and sometimes even I don't want to talk to me. I'm just bad company.

I didn't want to be like this; I wish I didn't turn out like this. I called for someone to hear me, hoping my shouts were loud enough. I held out my arm, hoping for someone to reach out to me. I cried for help, but I was ignored. I held out my hand, but it was left empty. Nobody wanted me. Nobody ever cared for me.

Realizing no one was coming to my aid, I balled my once outstretched hand into a fist and plugged my ears. I can't take it any more. I can't take being rejected again. Some will come and act like they care, raising my hopes, but in the end they always leave and laugh as I fall. People are cruel. Some will openly insult you while others will build you up and wait until you're vulnerable to tear you down. I've been attacked both ways, and the stupid girl I am never learns. When am I going to realize that nobody truly cares for me? They act like you mean something to you but abandon you as soon as the opportunity appears, and yet I still put trust in anyone who shows even the slightest ounce of care. I really am an idiot.

All I have ever wanted was for somebody to truly appreciate my existence, but as if someone ever would. My own family, those who are supposed to love and care for me more than anybody else in the whole world, couldn't care less for me. They never wanted me, that they made clear, but to treat a child in such a way! Did they have to damage my child mind? Did they have to tear me down so badly that it was certain that I could never rise again? No matter what anybody says, all I ever hear is insults. It's clear that if I were to die nobody would care.

Die. Death. Oh, how often I have thought of death. More times than I know have I wanted to end my own life, to end this pathetic excistence. My life is nothing more than air anyway, even when I'm there I go unnoticed.

I'm an odd creature. I want so badly to be heard, yet I have nothing I want to say. I want so badly to be comforted, yet I don't want to let anyone in. I want so badly for somebody to wipe away my tears, yet I don't want anyone to know why I shed them. I want so much, but it's out of my reach. There isn't a single person who can even begin to understand, who can hear me and not think any less of me. I know exactly what I want, I want it so much that it hurts so badly, but it's something I can never hope to have.

All I have ever needed was somebody, but all I ever had was nobody.

I wake up in my chair, twisted in awkward positions. I check the time. Nearly noon. How late have I stayed up? How long have I been asleep? I stand up and stretch my limbs. My mind is made up: I'm going to do it.

I change into a pure white dress and let my hair fall down naturally. I then sit at my desk and pull out a blank sheet of paper and a pen. I write the best I can with my horrid penmanship, and after dozens of crumbled peices of paper I finally put my words down. Lastly, I proceed to the kitchen and return with a knife. I smile as I feel the blade. Yes, it's sharp enough. I set the knife next to the paper as I return to the kitchen for a sip of juice. Before I begin to drink the red grape I'm interrupted by a knock on my door.

"IA!" a childish voice rang. "I hope I'm not interrupting by visiting so unexpectedly. I couldn't call ahead to warn you because I left my cell phone last time I was here."

That's right, Yukari came over the other day because we're partners in a school project. She's a good kid, I guess, but in the end she's just like everyone else. "Door's unlocked," I call to her.

I hear the door carefully open and silently shut as Yukari entered my apartment. I see her tiny fram walk shyly through my living room. When she sees me she smiles and gives a morning greeting. She wears her light purple hair in two low tails, a black hoodie with rabbit ears on the top, and always has a smile on her face. "Sorry to bother you."

"It's okay," I say. Can't she hurry and leave me to finish something that should've been done years ago? "I haven't seen it so I'm afraid I won't be much help in your search."

"It's okay~," she sings, "I think I know where I left it." With that she dances off.

I twirls my glass around until I remember that I actually had seen her cell phone. It was on my . . .

"Oh no!" I silently gasp as I race towards my desk, but I am greeted by Yukari holding the note and trembling as she reads what I have written down.

"IA," Yukari whispers as tears fill her eyes.

"You don't understand," I try.

"So you're not going to kill yourself?!" she snaps, tears falling now. "I'm simply misunderstanding all of this and you are not about to slice your throat?!"

"What's the point in me living?!" I argue. "My life is worthless! I'm trash! Good for nothing! Nobody cares about me! NOBODY!"

Yukari, shaking like a phone on vibrate, throws the paper aside and attacks me with a hug. "That's not true, IA!" She cries. "That's not true at all!"

"And why would you say that," I say as I try to escape her grasp.

"Because I care for you!" she wails as she tightens her grip on me. "You're my only friend, IA! If you die then I'll have nobody! And I've had nobody for so long that I can't remember what it was like to have someone to talk to!"

I stop struggling at her words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're the first person who has ever talked to me without saying anything mean," she says as the tears continue to fall down her face. "Everybody else wants nothing to do with me. I," she hesitates, "I feel lonely . . . all the time. I feel so lonely that I can't help but cry about it."

This is when the tears fill my eyes. So we are the same; we are kindred spirits. We both know the lonely feeling. Sadly, we both know it too well.

"Don't kill yourself," she pleads in sobbing whispers. "Please don't kill yourself. You're the only person I trust enough to talk to. Without you I have no one."

This is when I wrap my arms around her shaking figure. I stifle most of the sobs that threaten to escape my lips, but Yukari lets all her cries out. She continues her sobbing tremors and hiccups, not seeming to care what she looks like to me. I pet the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, but her tears don't cease. "Yukari," I quietly say, only to have my voice crack.

"I'm so selfish," she mumbles. "I'm asking you to stay alive because of how it will impact me, but you don't even want to live." She buries her face into the crook of my neck. "Why would anyone ever stay alive for me?" she says the last part so quietly that I'm convinced she didn't mean for me to hear it.

"Yukari," I try again, "I spent my whole life believing that nobody cared for me, that it would just be best if I were dead," she stiffens at those last words. "I-I," I choke on my words, "I didn't know I had somebody who cared enough to stop me from taking my life. I . . . I didn't know I had somebody who cared for me at all." It is true, never once had it crossed my mind that somebody had cared for me even the littlest bit, yet Yukari is holding onto me as if I'll disappear if she lets go. How I could be so blind that I believed that Yukari was like all the others whom I have met. If anything, Yukari is more like me - someone who just needs a friend.

Yukari tightens her grip on me. "You're my only friend, IA, I just couldn't let you . . ." she doesn't finish.

"I'm sorry," I say to her. "I'm sorry for being so blind. I believed with all my heart that I had no friends, and if you hadn't of come when you did then I would've taken away your only friend. I'm sorry."

Yukari let's go of me and wipes her tears. She proceeds to the table and picks up the knife. "So I guess you won't be needing this any more." It was a statement, not a question.

I nod my head. "Do away with it. I'm too sickened with myself to even look at it." I cross my arms and turn away. I began to find it hard to believe that just minutes ago I was going to kill myself!

Yukari walks away, making noise as she puts the knife away. I wish she had just thrown it away instead of putting it back with the other utensils. "Will you be okay?" she asks as she re-enters the room.

I hesitate. "I think so," I say quietly. "I say I'm fine now but . . . what about the next time I just can't stop the mean voices?"

"Call me then," Yukari says slowly. "Whenever I feel bad, all I know is all I wanted to do was talk about it." She looks down. "All I want to do is talk about it."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "How about I cook some Ramen and we can talk while we eat."

Yukari looks up with hopeful eyes. "R-really?"

"Sure," I smile. "I think it's about time that we both had somebody to talk to."

Maybe later I'll regret saying everything I have kept hidden inside for years. Maybe I'll wish I had chosen to keep my mouth shut. But all that doesn't matter now. For once, somebody wants to hear me. What more could I ask for?