A/n:

I Feel Like A Such A Terrible Author. I Hardly Every Update!

Forgive me?

Ha, thanks for all reviews! Seriously The Best Girls and Guys!

Anywhooo.

Without Further Adieu!

Chapter 6, May 5th

The Diary Of A Dreamer

Max P.O.V.

Dear Diary,

Diary. I tried to last night. I tried to kill myself. And i'm.. i'm not sorry. I broke an old pencil sharpner and used it as a razor. I sliced the thin skin on my wrist, it was almost beautiful. I wrote a suicide note as well.. It went like this:

"Mom I love you

Don't blame it on yourself

Dad forgive me

I couldn't ask for help

Take my picture

Off the table by the phone

It never belonged there anyway

This happy family was broken

Long before I left it anyway

I don't expect you to understand

Just why it was that I couldn't stay

I know you can't hear me

But I'm writing this for you

It is my last punk song

Telling you my life is through

It's okay to hate me

Just don't miss me when I'm gone

Cuz I don't deserve it

When I have done so much wrong

I never belonged here anyway

This happy family was broken

Long before I left it anyway

I don't expect you to understand

Just why it was that I couldn't stay"

My mom found me. In our little blue bathroom. I saw here through my closing eyes. Kneeling next to me, shaking me hard. She placed her hand around my bleeding wrist, hard. I remember trying to fight her off as she called the paramedics.

She didn't understand that I just want to die. I remember for her screaming for the paramedics to come up the stairs before I blacked out and got my sweet sweet silence.

That is, tell I woke up in the hospital this morning. I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved.I woke up into a nightmare. I was greated by my crying mother.. and Fang. The myserious guy that I met a few days ago. My mom was a crying mess. Everytime she would look at me, it seemed like she'd cry harder and harder.

The doctor finally made her leave, but he allowed Fang to stay. Which was kinda weird, but I didn't question it. I felt safer around this stranger than my own mother. She'd never understand why i'd want to kill myself.

I learned a lot about Fang is those next few hours. He didn't like being called Fang. He got his nickname when he was younger and bit his sister. His favorite color is black, big surprise there. His moms name is Angie. His best friend is James, but likes to be called Iggy.

We talked for hours and hours. I noticed he used his hands to explain things and that he was left handed. He pulled out of his bookbag something that looked like a drawing pad. He drawed with his left hand.

He drew me a bird, a blue bird with the word "Survivor" coming out of its mouth. I promised myself I would never lose that picture as I tucked it into the inside of cover of you diary. It's the most thoughtful gift i'll ever recieve.

He smiled at me, as eight o clock around and promised he'd be back tomorrow. I nodded at him as he disappeared out into the light green hallway.

I rested my head back onto the crappy pillow as thoughts filled me head. You can close you eyes to things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heard to things you don't want to feel. Cold tears starting running down my face as I truly thought for the first time in a long time.

I'm pathetic, worthless, stupid. I don't deserve to live. Why.. why do they make me live, when it hurts to wake everyday. Why won't they let me take the pain away, forever.

Why did she do it? Nobody dared to ask. Because - what courage! Who had the courage to burn herself? Twenty aspirin, a little slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof: We've all had those. And somewhat more dangerous things, like putting a gun in your mouth. But you put it there, you taste it, it's cold and greasy, your finger is on the trigger, and you find that a whole world lies between this moment and the moment you've been planning, when you'll pull the trigger. That world defeats you. You put the gun back in the drawer. You'll have to find another way.

What was that moment like for her? The moment she lit the match. Had she already tried roofs and guns and aspirins? Or was it just an inspiration?

I had an inspiration once. I woke up one morning and I knew that today I had to swallow fifty aspirin. It was my task: my job for the day. I lined them up on my desk and took them one by one, counting. But it's not the same as what she did. I could have stopped, at ten, or at thirty. And I could have done what I did do, which was go onto the street and faint. Fifty aspirin is a lot of aspirin, but going onto the street and fainting is like putting the gun back in the drawer.

She lit the match.

A/n:

Woo! Review. No, I'M NOT FEELING ANYTHING LIKE MAX.

Review.

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-Cora.