Hey X, it’s me.

I don’t really know what to call this. If I actually end up sending it, I guess you’d call it a suicide note. As of right now, I’m calling it a friendship letter. An ironic juxtaposition, isn’t it?

You’re my best friend, X, but I’m scared to tell you, and thus I never have. I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to have to look at your face when you lie and say that I’m yours as well. I know that I’m not your best friend, but that’s okay. I’m happy simply being your friend, and I’m happy that we get to hang out so often. I’m happy I found a person who likes me for who I am, who is so similar to me and enjoys my company. You’re always there, you know? I can always rely on you to want to be around me, and I can always depend on your support or witty comments to cheer me up. Time and time again I have been in a bad mood and have texted you looking for a distraction, and time and time again you have pulled me from a depressed slump simply by talking to me. It’s like a superpower, it really is, and it makes me all the more grateful I have you in my life.

There is so much I want to say but I don’t know how to say it. I admire you deeply, for being so strong and so intelligent and so put-together even though you insist that you aren’t. You are the best of us, and— god, you just mean that much to me, you know? You are the one constant in my life, and despite the fact that I feel like I’m drowning little by little, but you are always there for me. Not out of obligation, but because you are genuinely my friend. And while I’m putting it all out there, I might as well let you know that I think of you as my family. I love you so much, and despite the problems I have you make my life a little brighter every day.

There are so many memories I have with you that keep me grounded, that make me smile when I am stewing in a depressed fog. Our trips to Barnes and Noble are memories that I cherish, specifically when we sit in the manga section for hours simply talking, or when we sit at a table in the café and draw. Watching TV shows together are fond memories as well, and fonder still are the simple memories, the ones that may seem small but mean the world to me. Laying on your carpet and talking about everything that comes to mind. You narrating video games to me, not seeming to mind that I’m forcing you to talk for hours on end. Our tradition of pizza trips, which make me so happy to think about. They mean a lot to me, and I hope they hold the same weight for you.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been struggling lately to pull myself out of a slump. It gets harder and harder, and though I recognize my self-destructive habits, I can’t stop myself. I started cutting again. I stopped taking my medication. I stopped scheduling therapy appointments. I don’t know what I’m going to do next, and I’m scared I will do something I’ll regret. I’ve been thinking about death a lot, X, and yeah, that's why I'm writing this.

I don’t know when I’ll get that bad again, only that it will happen, soon, I think, so I want to write this now to let you know how much I care about you, and how much I am going to miss you when I’m gone. I care about you so much, and I am so proud to have a friend as talented and warm as you. You are going to do incredible things when you get older, and whether I am alive or not just know that even now, I am infinitely proud of you.

Please don’t forget about me. Goodbye. I love you.

Peace. What a laughable word. As far back as the world had been, there was conflict. So, why was it that people thought they could eliminate it? It would only delay the inevitable, as far as the people were concerned. They were right. No sooner than the Rules were put in place, the laws for any and all society, did people start to fight. To rebel. They were never seen again. Our people had colonised the stars, had visited places far away and unknown to us, and this was the miserable, laughable result.

On occasion, one of the human race would have different traits. Different abilities. They weren't like normal humans. They were better. They were immortal. They had much higher intelligence, better endurance, better sight, smell, all the senses were enhanced, and each one possessed a special ability. A power only they could use. The government called them Veni. Sometimes there were repeats, and more than one of the people had that ability. Sometimes a person had more than one. One such person had the ability of a technopath. He could control any and all tech, and had a limited ability of welding electricity. With his higher intelligence, and overall abilities he took to the stars.

He built a fleet of ships, each one flown by his fellow Veni, all his friends. They spent many years in space, charting and mapping the cosmos. Then, the Republic of Eurasia wanted to take over our space program. When we refused, they declared nuclear war. The Veni in space detected the radiation from the missles, and knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. One of the Veni raced back to Earth as fast as he could, and found the Earth set to enter a nuclear winter in less than 50 years. Of the billions of people who lived on Earth, only 150,000 were left. The Veni built colony ships, and sent us to jovian planets after putting us in cryo-stasis. Some went to Ragnarok, some to Earth-616, some to Earth -199999, and many, many others.

Two of the ships went to Poseidon. Things were fine for a while, the Veni watched us build and constructed governments that we would use. Then they left to find other races once we had a sustainable life set in place. Once the Veni left however, the council took over.

Poseidon was a planet made entirely out of water. The people lived on mats made of plants floating on the sea, with space-side auto factories constructing floating cities for residential use. However, the second the Veni left, production of the cities was shut down. Independent cities were too hard to control. Then, the Council instituted the Rules. They controlled any and every action the people did, in an attempt to eliminate any risk of “Repeating the terrible tragedy that led to the fate of the Earth.”

Every home was required to have a standard issue television, so the Council could see and hear everything said and done. If you were observed doing anything that was constituted as treason, you were “Re-educated”, which consisted to direct stimulation of the Thalamus and Vagus nerves. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience.

There were protests, of course. The people had been promised freedom and liberty after the whole fiasco with the Republic of Eurasia, but those agreements were not being kept. Then along came Harper. He was one of the Veni (the only one) who doubted the Council’s actual motives. Harper had been alive since 1829, so he was well aware of the danger corrupt governments posed to the people.

He was on Posiedon, pretending to be a normal, run of the mill human, with the assigned job of a Mysteria. He basically took the notes on Council meetings, filed all highly classified paperwork, and stored it away in the vaults. He was in contact with 2 Council members, Kitty and Raymond, who were also opposed to the oppressive rule. They collected a little band of rebels, people who believed in basic human rights, and in a bout of humor and irony, dubbed themselves the RC, The Revolutionary Council. The people's form of government. With Harper’s assets space-side, and the RC’s member’s influence on the community, the people actually had a chance.

The RC were a well informed group that drove the Council insane. They could never figure out their meeting places, how they managed to get sensitive information minutes after meetings, and who they were. Even with the cameras and listening devices on just about everything, the Council was still at an absolute loss. They caught whispers, of course. Murmurs about the group that was responsible for the hacking that took any and all observation devices out on all the mats. However, the blackout did have its purpose.

With all their knowledge, listening devices, and Monitors, (People who patrolled the streets at night to make sure people obeyed curfew, and followed the Rules) the Council still had not figured out the plan that had been carried out right under their very noses. For many quarters, Harper had been constructing ships, enough to remove the entire population of Poseidon and bring them in cryo-stasis to Kamero, another jovian planet overseen by Marcus, another Vini. Every single person on Poseidon was gone, except the Council members (Minus Kitty and Raymond, who of course came with us) and avid Rule supporters. (of which there were none, except the Council members themselves) Harper had situated drones all around the planet, out of sight, while the evacuation took place during the monitoring equipment black out. Then we were gone.

Off to a new world, one governed fairly, with people who we could trust. We were free. The Council may have thought they were “Helping prevent a tragedy,” but they were really only delaying the inevitable. Humans will be humans, and in order to be fully human, we need to make mistakes, and learn from them.

And needless to say, the Council was not happy when they discovered, 2 quarters after the blackout, that all their citizens were actually now holograms.

I’ve always been on the run. Running into the endless night. Away from those prying hands. Hands that have bound me in chains. That have always kept me hidden and away from the light. I’ve been locked inside their cold dark grasps and I refuse to stand it any longer. Humiliated, tortured, stripped of all my rights. I was nothing but a little song bird kept in a cage with its wings clipped. Now, no longer being able to fly towards the sky and having lost the will to sing, I take it upon myself to still rise. For I will, will myself to. To keep rising even if I’m being stepped on and pushed into the muddy ground. Even if they keep on giving me scars, scars that cover my body in its entirety, I will show them how those scars define me. That these scars are proof that I have survived all those long harsh years in their grasps. However, I refuse to let them give me any more of their marks. I know, I am strong, but there is just so much that I can take. I have always tried to escape from those bloody hands, only to find the attempt to be futile and be dragged back in their midists but now...now I finally have a chance. A chance to escape this Hell. A chance for freedom. Real freedom. Freedom not given to me but the choice of my own freedom and I won’t let anyone take that away from me. I won’t let that chance escape me.

That’s why for now I must run. I must run into this endless night. Into this sea of darkness. Running through the forest as branches brush against my bare skin, giving me more scars. As I run bare feet, stepping on broken twigs and the cold damp ground. I will keep on running and let these legs become my new wings. Wings that will lead me to my freedom. Freedom that I rightfully deserve. I could hear not far off behind me, the sounds of the hunting dogs and the Hunters who want to take me back once more. This time for good. Dead or alive, they will take back what belongs to them and I cannot accept that any longer. My lungs burn and I feel like I could faint any moment now, but I keep on pushing forward. Suddenly the trees start to clear and that scares me. If I reach a clearing with no way to hide in the shadows of the trees, I will be shot dead in an instant. I come to a sudden stop and look ahead at what lies before me. In an instant all my remaining strength drained out of me. I was standing at the edge of a cliff and what lay before me was a vast sea. A sea that stretched on for miles out and the pale white glow of the moon.

“No way...After everything that I had to endure. After going to such lengths...I’ve reached a dead end once again!” I cried aloud gasping for air and trying to keep the tears from trying to consume me. “Where is that bitch!” I heard one of their voices yell. It was near. They would find me soon. What do I do? Should I let them drag me back? Should I put up a fight? Heh. As if I possibly could. What do I do then? Someone please tell me what to do?

“Run.” But there’s nowhere left to run! “Then fly.”

I sat there on the ground for a second longer and then I got up. I walked to the edge of the cliff and saw the dark waves crashing against the rocks below. I turned around and started to walk back into the forest only to stop at the edge of it. “Never again will I let them define who I am. Never again will I let them do what they please with me. I am me and I will not let anyone take that away from me ever again!” I suddenly turned around and pushed myself to the limts to make this run. With the last of my withering strength, I jumped off the cliff with my hands spread outwards. “If I can’t run and seek my freedom, then I’ll fly and choose my own freedom.” Away from the hands of these murderers. These cruel beasts. Away from the darkness that chooses to keep a firm hold on me while I choose to thrash my way out of its grips. That’s why…CRASH!"

I will choose to fly away from their darkness and let the darkness of the sea engulf me instead. At least I get to choose my own darkness. At least I’ve finally run away and let my wings fly.

Even if only for a short while...

You say we don't have a problem

Guns don't kill

People do

But from what I see assault weapons do

Why do we need guns that can shoot so much at a time

You can't hunt animals with them but it's ok to hunt humans

That is what is happening

Time to fix the people not gun laws

Well let's look at that

We had a law limiting mentally unstable people that you overturned .

You took funding away for mental health also .

Fix the people that do this right ok

Guns in the wrong hands become a bomb waiting to go off .

You light there fuses making statements against immigrants there monsters you say

Well has an immigrant or black person been in these mass shootings as a shooter no dare not I say .

All white peoples are not bad but we have some that are very very bad .

Today I'm sad to wake up to an America the world sees as unable to fix this whole thing .

Only more death and despair

Politicians argue over reasons why

But get nothing done

America wake up and see the problem

If they won't do nothing

Get rid of them all peacefully

Use the power of the ballot

Vote them all out

Replace them all

Go for independents

Doesn't have to be democrat or republican

Vote for people who are like all of us

That will take action

No action just continues this epidemic .

The time is now the time is right .

Get to the real problem

Ban assault rifles and bullets

I agree 2nd amendment should stand

We have a right to our guns our founding fathers would have banned these weapons and kept hand guns shotguns .

So as you think about it hug your families tell them you love them everyday .

Because America has become a ticking time bomb .

When will the next one happen where will it be .

Could be your hometown

Could be at a mcdonalds or Taco Bell next .

Imagine going to eat out and kids playing in the playground then suddenly life is forever changed

Let's be sensible about this

Use the power of your vote

Vote for action not inaction .

America can and needs to change .

We love America red white and blue

Home of the brave

Let's be brave and vote with our hearts and minds

Together we can change

Together we can do what is right

Together yes with one voice our voices will be heard .

Just vote and United we can change things for a safer America .

God bless the United States of America .

I am imperfect and broken in many ways. I’ve worked really hard to put myself back together again. To build myself into the perfectly flawed person I am today. I will continue to improve day by day in some way shape or form but...

Occasionally there will be days that the scars I have hidden will become visible. The pain that lays within the depth of these scars may reveal themselves through selfish behavior or egotistical agenda that stems from unrealistic expectations and a severe lack of self confidence, for which I am not proud of.

Thankfully these days come few and far between, but they do come. I choose to believe this gives me the opportunity to reflect on how far I’ve come. It also reflects to me the areas in which I still need to work on. I am willing to admit my short comings. Choosing to learn from these experiences instead of beating myself up about them. In hopes to improve the perfectly flawed person that I am.

If you're not, you can share the pain with me.

Tell me your struggles, your pain, I may not understand but I'll definately make you feel heard and try my best to help you if I can. After all, we are all writers, and all writers are made from a dark past. Share your pain with me, it may not reduce it, but atleast it wouldn't increase it.

Now you would think that way should you share your pain and your secrets with me, someone you don't even know? But, all friends are strangers, before you start trusting them.

I know some people like keeping their pain inside their hearts, and suffer alone, but guys, how long? It would come out one day, so make that day today.

I hope this would make you feel better, and I would be waiting to hear from those who wish to share.

The star football player scores the final point.

The crazed crowd creates a chaotic crush.

He receives nearly straight A’s. He can talk to everybody. Other guys, girls, teachers, parents, faculty, and all are happily smothered with his charm.

Everyone but two.

The musician prodigy can play on any instrument at any moment.

Personality placid and poised, but at the same time paramount, shows in his music whenever he plays.

He has no stage fright. Everyone is reassured by his easy-going personality and his relaxing words to be surprised when he plays.

Everyone but two.

The dancer floats down the stage after a breathtaking performance.

Her hair is always elegant and shining, never a hair out of place.

She never trips, never falls. Always one of the most graceful girls in the hall. She flows from class to class, her clique trailing after her. Everyone wishes they were in her clique.

Everyone but two.

Look closer, in the corner of the hall. There is a boy sitting there, carefully transcribing something, pen flying across the page.

Look closer.

He has a green and white plaid button-up shirt, stained around the bulging pocket protector. Others are frightened by the antique 1950’s glasses, and the thickness of the glass.

He scribbles more, and something dark catches your eyes. A black brace on his wrist.

Look closer, as something clatters on the ground.

An old calculator, dented and scratched, buttons old and cracking, paint peeling off of it.

The faded posters on the walls and the calculator have both lived long past the prime of their days.

The bell rings for the first class of the day.

The boy stands up to his short height, pushes up his glasses on his nose and watches the people in front of him.

Everyone avoids him.

They might be scared of his bowl haircut.

Scared of his hand stained with different colors of ink.

Scared of his face filled with pimples.

Scared of his stack of textbooks.

A boy with broad shoulders catches his eyes first.

It’s the star football player.

He bumps into our four-eyed friend purposely, withholding an unkind snicker as his glasses fly in the air, and his heavy books plummet to the ground with a bang.

The football player’s friends murmur, “He looks like a 80’s yearbook photo gone wrong.”

Look closer.

A name flutters on one of the papers.

James Robert Johnson, next to a proudly scribbled ‘IV’

His imperfect eyes search wildly for his glasses.

He finds them close by. With shaking hands, he picks up his papers.

His eyes find the football player in the distance.

The football player and his friends shove each other around, laughing and teasing each other.

His shoulders solemnly slump as he sadly wishes, ‘I wish I could be like them. With friends surrounding me, laughing all the time…’

He glances at his watch when he finally has all his papers arranged neatly in a stack.

He scurries down the hall to his class, just barely entering the classroom as the bell rings.

Look closer, down the hall.

A girl dressed in black, carrying a stack of worn thick notebooks slowly walks down the hall. Her black hoodie is enveloping her barely showing face, hiding her from others.

The hood is pulled down low, her hair covering most of her face.

The unnatural, almost unpleasant hair is the only thing you can see, eyes being drawn to it.

She looks like a Yin-Yang symbol, with white and black mingling together.

Look closer.

Her pale face is covered with small scars, making her pasty face even whiter.

She has on dark, depressing, thick makeup.

She looks like she came from an old black and white photo.

She slowly walks into a class.

“Eleanor Nez,” the teacher says, “take off your hood.”

Meekly, Eleanor obeys.

As she grasps the hem of the hood, her sleeve falls down partially.

On her arm are long white scars, surrounded with hate-filled words. It falls back down as she sits down.

In class she is quiet. Never saying a word.

Her classmates tease taunting words to her terrified face, tormenting her terrific drawings.

She walks in the halls alone, watching the musician and his friends. Watching the dancer and her clique.

Look closer.

Eleanor wants to be like them, but knows she won’t be accepted.

She is only accepted at home, with her younger baby brother and her older sister.

She looks forward to be at home, without any ruthless torment.

Her little brother squeals as she walks into her small living room after school.

As only infants can do and look adorable, he impatiently reaches his chubby hands in the air for Eleanor, and her face lights up as she sees him.

Slipping off her backpack, she picks him up, talking to him about her ideas no one else will listen to. Paitently, he listens.

At dinner, Eleanor quietly talks to her older sister.

She asks, “Am I normal?”

Her sister kindly replies, “What’s normal?

Eleanor, it doesn’t matter if you seem weird or not.

It matters if you are a good person.”

Eleanor ponders these kind words.

Look closer.

James Robert Johnson IV is at home with his mother and father.

“Father,” he asks, “am I odd?”

His parents are paralyzed with pondering precariousness.

His father turns towards him.

“You are a good person, James. And that’s all that matters.”

Eleanor knows that each person has the ability to be a good person, even though they may make unwise decisions.

She does not envy the dancer, nor the musician.

She knows that everybody envies them.

Everybody but two.

They look closer.

I hate this feeling. What feeling? My feeling of worthlessness, The feeling that perhaps all those years of being called stupid, retarded, idiot, or even being told I’ll never do anything with my life, maybe it was all true. I hate myself sometimes, knowing that all it takes is one of my slip ups and someone gets upset, or worse: someone gets hurt. I feel like a living wrecking ball. I destroy every friendship I have. I can’t stop this feeling of worthlessness. Worst of all is my feeling of being alone. after pushing everyone away why wouldn’t I feel alone. I have to fight my battles in my mind. You wouldn’t believe the pain I’ve kept to myself. I hate the feeling of always being on the verge of eruption. The thoughts I keep to myself can’t be tamed forever. I hate how no one knows me yet at the same time don’t they. I hate how one unintended offense drives the ones I care for away. I hate how I care for those that hurt me and the feeling that I’m meant for something more and not knowing what. I hate these feelings that tear me apart and add to my graveyard of regret. I hate that I’ll never be able to trust anyone and no one will trust me. I hate these feelings. I hate them all. I want them to stop. why won’t they stop!? someone make them stop...

One day it’ll all make sense. One day I’ll see the light in the dark. One day I’ll see what this is meant for, what I’m meant for. One day I’ll be free, but until that day... I hate this feeling. What feeling? The feeling of...

Fear. Fear is my friend. Fear is also my worst enemy. you could say I am Fear, but honestly that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I’m fearful that taste could be toxic. I fear the words coming from my mouth and how when they start flowing they never stop. I fear my expectations and how I never seem to meet them fully. I fear death of others and wonder whether they knew my father in Heaven. I fear the dark as a place of the unknown. I fear that I won’t be accepted by anyone. I fear the light and it’s ability to show me the truth. If I fear all these things then what is there for me on this world.

Fear is a liar. he told me everything was fine, that nothing was wrong, then it dropped me dead in the dirt. while I was in the dirt Fear took control. if Fear is in control doesn’t that make me Fear?

NO! I won’t listen to this.

Fear is just a thought. A terrible thought that consumes me. It’s a parasite, a leach that’s never full. Why can’t I get rid of Fear? Why does it consume me so quickly? Why won’t it leave me?

I don’t write for me alone. I write for Fear. Perhaps if I please Fear he’ll leave me alone. I write for Fear in a pursuit of hope, happiness, or even for my own self improvement. Fear controls me. He controls us all. I hope one day all of Fear is removed from us but until that day, Fear is my friend, Fear is my worst enemy, and I am Fear.

how many nights do you wake sweating, lungs panting, heart racing? with the scattered thumps of a broken heart beating inside the pillows under your haunted skull?

with the sound of my devastating sobs begging for you to answer my pleas?

you look to your feet and find a demon at the foot of your bed with recorder in hand—

snickering at your disappointment

when you realize, none of me still begs for you, none of me still sounds your name, none of me still lives with you, none of me still begs for you, none of me still thinks of you and, worst of all, your demon reminds you none of me still wants to.

so drown it all, the demon suggests, handing your shaking, addictive hands a glass of your royal whiskey.

you agree with bloodshot eyes and pity for your singlehanded self demise and take a swig because the recording keeps replaying and nothing can make this demon pause the tape.

angry, at everyone but yourself, you ignite the hellish flame inside your weak character as your arrogance demands control because you say with a slur to the demon with the upper hand that you’ll eject your fate.

the demon laughs and asks,

how many nights do you wake inside the Hell of your own head because you decided to hurt what was love then forgot to wipe your hands clean of the blood?

you finally look into the eyes of this demon and see your own drunk, bitter, broken reflection.

You are your worst nightmare, your own demon— and, I, the dream you decided wasn’t worth remembering…the fate you ejected instead of just flipping the tape.