There will always be a point in your life where you start realising that you've been realising a lot of things all at one point. You think you've matured both in mind and in spirit. But thats when you're wrong. You start realising that puberty is all but a passing phase, and the real problem lies within yourself. You start realising that the people around you aren't screwing you up, but you're screwing up yourself. Then we all start getting depressed, we start with the cutting, then we start with the pills, then when we can't take it anymore we threaten ourselves, matter over mind, with the knives. Because then, pain isn't the worst thing. At least you know you're not just a shadow, darkening someones wall, a silhouette thrust haphazardly into their lives. Don't you hate this feeling: like you're here, but you're not. Like someone cares, but they don't. Like you belong somewhere else but here. Memory is a tenous thing don't you think? Like a camera with a failing lens, sometimes your focus is so sharp it hurts you. Other times, it gets so vague, so blur, you'd wish you could remember more. Sometimes they don't know how it feels, because they've never felt warmth, acceptance or love before. But those who've felt it before, but lost it, you want it back. Then it strikes you, that nothing will ever be the same again.