She sat down at her desk; a pen and paper in front of her. The blue lines printed on the college ruled paper burning in her eyes. The black inked Bic pen neaty pressed between her right index and middle fingers. A lit Newport at her side. Her favorite band in her Skull Candy headphones. Complete solitude from the world she so desperately wants to escape. She picks up the pen to position it between her thumb and index finger, clicks the ink free, and touches the tip to the top line. “I am alone.” Her cursive is smooth despite the nerves in her body shaking yet frozen with silent desperation. “Everyone is a disappointment,” she continues, “but you let me down the most. I gave you my heart. I gave you my soul. You told me to trust you. I did. Now, I cannot trust anyone ever again.” With her left hand she reaches for the cigarette and takes a hit. Looking down at her wrist she touches the lit tip to her skin and puts the cigarette out. She didn’t wince from pain not once. What’s pain anymore? She thinks as a hand reaches for the top desk drawer for an already rolled joint followed by a fresh bottle of oxycodone. She sets the bottle next to the ashtray as she ignites the lighter in front of the ashtray, tapping the flame to the tip of the joint as she brings it to her lips. Putting the lighter down she then grabs the pen touching the ballpoint to the end of the last sentence. “I was so alive with you. I was alive after you. For a while at least. When I had to go to the hospital I thought naybe you might show up. You did. But you weren’t alone. Right then I knew, I just knew, nothing mattered anymore.” Another hit from the joint. The high isn’t even enough anymore. But the pills…Her thoughts faded into the background of the metalcore in her ears. A tear swims down her cheek. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. The world knows nothing of my sadness, she thinks with a hard pull from the joint. Her vision blurs for just a moment then quickly fades, bringing the world back into focus. Her hand brushes the label of the pill bottle until her palm and then finally her whole hand consumes it. She pops the top off easily. A Monster at her side, she pops the can open and takes a drink. She puts the bottle down but leaves it at hands length. She replaces it with the pen touching the tip to the paper once again. “You were the sword that broke the armor around my heart. Now I must prevent anyone from mending it together.” She grabs the pills. The music seems to get louder as each agonizing inch passes from the space between her lips and the lip of the orange heavenly gates. The world began to blur around her. The drums pounded louder. The guitar snared harder. The bass hummed deeper. The lyrics cut deeper. She put the bottle down. Two lines of tears creased her cheeks. “I fucking hate living” was the last thing she wrote.