Read my diaries, yeah? Especially the one with a pretty painting on it—you know, with arose-laced gazebo in a misty garden by a river with a little waterfall of silver silk forever unfolding over the river rocks. I know my printing’s messy and I might not make much sense, but dig around and you’ll find some secrets I never wanted to tell anyone—and never did—and the answer to the question you no doubt have.

We had a presentation at school today.

“You are perfect just as you are, because you are special and unique,” said the speaker, said countless teachers and articles and songs before him.

You know I’ve always liked to be…different. I was socially awkward, but sort of enjoyed tagging myself that way, since it made me seem…mysterious. And oh, so superior. I tried to close my ears when Taylor Swift came on and chose to stay ignorant about pop-culture, but it was as much because I didn’t want to be seen as just an average teenager as because I truly disliked that stuff. So when Sis tells me that one third of people seriously consider suicide during their teenage years, I realize that two thirds come out alive—that’s the majority.

“No one is perfect,” they said.

You thought my life was perfect—I was the perfect girl. I had the right grades, had the right friends, the right attitude, the right hobbies and interests and the right things I did in my free time. But I found myself going after so many big goals in music, sports, art, and school, but suddenly finding them turn to faerie-dusty dreams slipping through my fingers—because I was good enough at everything to see the light, but not good enough at anything to get out of the darkness. I had become a jack of all trades, master of none.

“Stop bullying! Say no to discrimination! Support the LGBT community!” Yes, yes, yes. Stop bullying, bullies. Stop bullying bullies. Stop discriminating against heterosexual people.

And I had problems with bullying. There—that’s the root of all these teenage problems. But see, I didn’t think that kid would develop an eating disorder just because I called her fat. And yeah, I went a bit far with stealing that other girl’s notes and texting her after the test to tease her about failing, but I didn’t know she was such a teacher’s pet and took it that seriously.

“Never give up, always keep trying, and know that nothing is impossible.”

I didn’t think he would break up with the love of his life just because I planted some misunderstanding, making him think he had been betrayed by a fickle, straight man who was just playing around with him to hurt him more. He didn’t come back to me, anyways. I ruined the love of my life because I tried too hard—he had let me go once and turned to him, and I tried too hard to hang on. It’s all because I’m a girl that I hurt so much now.

“The lives bullies take can never come back.”

But when I’m gone, tell someone to cut the bully some slack, because the villain hurts, too. Though, that’s probably faulty logic, since two wrongs don’t make a right, so two people hurt doesn’t mean it was okay. I get that now, but now is too late. The one life I lived and took won’t come back, but that’s probably a good thing for all those other lives out there. Just remember—when I’m gone, think of me from time to time. And think of all those kids who are gone who had no good reason to go. And read my diaries, yeah? Especially the one with the painting of a pretty place, because that’s where I hope to go.