The Kill-30 Seconds To Mars
I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, this is who I really am inside.
Finally found myself
Fighting for a chance.
I know now, this is who I really am.
Come break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you, you, you.
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
� Blair checked her watch. It was only ten-thirty. She decided to go to the library. When she arrived, it was dead silent like always. She found a quiet space in the corner and pulled out her Discman. She put on her headphones and pulled out her binder. She began sketching again. She drew light lines along with her music. Soon her sketch had become a full on drawing. She didn't even realize what it was until she was done. It was a person's hand cutting into their arm. But the arm soon faded into paper and the razor faded into a pencil. Blair was stunned. It looked really good. She then checked her watch again. Four-twenty-eight. She took off her headphones and threw everything into her book bag and ran out of the library. By the time she reached Mrs. Moure's room she was fifteen minutes late. ���������
������� "Sorry, I lost track of time." She said quietly. �����������
������� "That's ok. Let's get started then. Tell me about yourself." Mrs. Moure always liked Blair. She had the best creativity in her class. �����
������ "What's to know?" Blair replied. �����������
���������"Look Blair, the only way this is going to work is if you open up. Don't worry. Everything you say is completely confidential." Mrs. Moure smiled. ���
�������� "Alright," She sighed. "I'm a fifteen year old with a depression disorder. I have panic attacks and I can't stop them. I don't know what to do sometimes so I cut myself to get rid of the pain. I think my parents are the main cause of this," Blair could feel the hot tears begin to sting her eyes. She used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe them away. Mrs. Moure put a hand on her shoulder. Blair couldn't stop the tears anymore. She just brought her knees up to her chest and cried. She heard shoes scuffing across the floor next to her. �
���������� "Ah, Jason. Blair?" Blair looked up at Mrs. Moure. "This is another one of my 'clients' come for a session." Mrs. Moure gestured to a rather tall boy. He had a well built body, not too skinny, not too big. He had dark brown hair with long bangs that he pushed to the side. He had hazel eyes encircled with eyeliner and eyeshadow in black. He had full pouty lips with a lip piercing in the bottom one closer to the right side. He was wearing a black Violent Femmes t-shirt with a black hoodie over top. He had baggy jeans on that were slightly faded. The shoes he was wearing were brown and pink skate shoes. He looked down at the ground and mumbled a slight hi. ���
�������� "There is no way in Hell I am talking in front of him." Blair said through gritted teeth. ����������� "Oh thanks. Now I feel appreciated." Jason spat and sat down in one of the desks in the back with his feet up on the chair in front of him. ������
����� "You don't have to. Neither of you do. All I want from you today is I want you to write out a autobiography about yourself." Mrs. Moure explained and handed out pens and paper. Blair wiped away the last of her tears and started to write. She got right into it realizing how easy it was once she got everything off her mind. The words formed so easily on the paper and she realized there was no reason to be defensive. Mrs. Moure sat at her desk just watching them. Both Jason and Blair were writing and extremely concentrated. Mrs. Moure was mesmerized at how quickly they were writing. She just couldn't wait to read them and compare how different and how alike Blair and Jason were.��
���������� My name is Blair Way Hardrum. I am a seventeen-year-old basket case. I have clinical depression. It all started when I was twelve. When I went to grade seven, my parents started fighting every night. I had troubles sleeping and I didn't know what was wrong. I would go to school and fall asleep in class. I then started to make friends with the wrong people. First it was Ilea. She would sometimes give me sleeping pills to help me sleep at night. I thought she was being a true friend by doing that for me. Turns out, she had actually covered them in Crystal Meth. As soon as I found that out we stopped being friends. Then there was Marylyn. She never told me but she was also friends with Iliea. She told me that I could tell her anything I wanted and she would listen. I told her how much I despised Iliea for what she did to me. She would then go back to Iliea and tell her everything I would say. Once again, that friendship didn't last very long. Soon I just stopped hanging out with people. ��
��������� On my thirteenth birthday, my parents beat me for asking if they remembered me. I went to my room and wrote a suicide note because I felt like if that was how I was going to be treated then I didn't deserve to live. That's when I started to cut. On that day I cut three times: one for the past, one for the present, and one for my not-so-bright future. The next day my parents felt 'guilty' and showered me with gifts. This was the routine for the next two years. Now, I am fifteen and nothing has changed. I found one friend but sometimes he even ignores me. I still cut but not too deep. The cuts aren't deep enough to die but not too light either. Sometimes I just want to be like every other person. I don't want to constantly be in a fight with myself. Now all I have to do is wait. Wait until time makes everything fade away. ������������ My name is Jason Lewis Slagg. I am seventeen years of age. I have never had anything. My parents died when I was only three. I lived with my uncle who is an alcoholic. Once I turned ten I realized something was wrong with me. If I felt sad about something I would have violent rages and destroy whatever I could. I turned fourteen and realized I was bipolar. Nothing changed. Then my uncle committed suicide. I felt like the whole thing was my fault and I could've stopped him had I not been so stupid. I felt because I was bipolar I didn't pay any attention to my uncle. I then blamed my parents death on myself. I started hurting myself to for 'revenge'. I felt like if I didn't hurt myself the debt of my parents and my uncle wouldn't be paid. I went to go live with my aunt and uncle. They took me to a doctor and he diagnosed me with bipolar and put me on Zoloft.� On my fifteenth birthday, I tried to overdose on Zoloft. The medicine increased my depression and I didn't feel like living anymore. My aunt and uncle realized this and took me back to the doctor. He put me on a combination of different medicines until we found one that worked. I have been on Xnanax for a year and its really helped. There are still days when I feel useless and want to die but my friends have helped me with that. I am now in a band with my friends and music has really helped.
������������ Mrs. Moure stared at the two papers with her jaw open. Jason and Blair left half an hour before but Mrs. Moure was still shocked. She had no idea it would be this bad. She wrote down some notes and re-read the papers. She certainly felt for Jason and Blair. Suddenly, it occurred to her what the next session would be like.� As she smiled to herself, she scribbled down more notes of what she was going to do for the two of them.