Welcome to Gaia! ::

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, one that would normally call attention of the surrounding people, but I knew well that no such thing would happen. I glimpsed over the room, a bitter taste rising to my mouth as I noted the people.
Truth be told, I was envious. Very envious. All of these people had some purpose. Every last one of them. Yes, I realize some were no more than punching bags to others, but even so, I envied every single one.
A silent tear rolled down my cheek and onto my lips, and the droplet replaced the bitter flavor with a slight salty one. The deed ahead sent another droplet down, though it rolled off my chin, landing on my knee.
Not one person noticed, or if they did, they kept it to themselves. �At least no one will miss me this way,� I thought in an attempt to stop the tears, �I�ll be doing them a favor. They�ll have one less body crowding the classroom.� My tear ducts obliged my attempt and I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
The slightly darkened spots manifested themselves in the shape of what almost looked like a scythe. A note sounded in my head, and I pulled back the ominous sleeve so that the damp spot was just over the veins in my wrist. A small, dry smile cracked at my lips, �Even my tears are telling me, now.�
A quick glance at the clock told me there were but a few minutes till the end of the school day and I went through a checklist in my head, �I cleaned out my locker, I boxed my stuff up, and once I get this stuff to the house, I can do it.�
The bell rang; a tone of freedom for most, but an ending for me. I got up and trudged down the hall, between the textbooks and binders, this was a heavy lot to say the least.
A persistent thought of mine flashed through my mind as I struggled with the load, �No ever notices me, I sit by myself. I think to only me. No one cares. I used to have friends, what happened?� A reminiscent image of junior high catches me and I remember just �what happened.� �The first week of high school I was dumped like an old toothbrush,� I recalled, �they all split into their little groups and left me all alone.�
Part of my brain tried to tell me, �No, don�t do this, this is stupid,� but another part showed me something; images of myself, crying silent tears at the back of the room as I�d done today. And nobody cared.
Little did I know then that I was, in fact, being watched. But now I know, he was watching. Watching, and waiting.
I clumsily stepped outside, the weight shifting precariously about, threatening to dump. A nearby wall, fortunately enough, caught me, and balanced the load.
A slight sigh slipped from my mouth and I moved onward. Back to my house. Back to the source.
I knew, in my heart, that my friends, or lack thereof, wasn�t the sole cause for my decision. Depression, I knew, had taken me, and it had only increased from the time of my mother�s death.
They told me it was an accident; she�d accidentally overdosed with a prescription and cough syrup. I knew it then and am still sure of it now, it was no accident; it was far too specific a combination. But another thing nagged at my mind, she�d never kill herself, not in a thousand years.
I bit my lip sharply, trying to keep the tears in, though I haven�t an idea of why. No one was watching. No one would see. Still, I blinked my eyes furiously, trying to keep them clear. �It doesn�t matter now!� I screamed in my head, �It won�t matter as soon as I get there.� Angered with myself, I threw my eyelids down hard, a futile attempt to keep the salty droplets in. In that brief moment, I walked, well, more so attempted to walk, over a few scattered pebbles.
It didn�t work.
Down I went, and my load with me. It scattered and shot out in every imaginable direction.
Now the tears would not be stopped. They pushed their way through. �Great,� I thought, �just what I need, another thing to think about.
Before I had even started trying to collect my things, an unfamiliar voice sounded, �Let me help you.�
�N- no, really, I-� I stammered, but he knelt and helped me up.
�Are you hurt?� he questioned, staring at my face and the tears streaming down it.
�No,� I stated bluntly, beginning to pull all of my things back toward me.
He mimicked my action, and once the scattered books, papers, and other such things had been collected offered, �Here, let me carry half.� I opened my mouth to object, but before the words could be said, he�d grabbed about two thirds of my load. My mouth began to shape the word, but he broke in, �So why do you have all this stuff?� he asked, his tone kind and warm, �Is your locker broken or something?�
This I ignored. I didn�t want his company, let alone to explain myself to him. Who did he think he was anyway? The tears had subsided and left no evidence of their ever being there save the streaks on my face. My mouth stayed shut in a firm line. I continued on in silence, hoping that complete lack of conversation would deter this stranger from an attempt at befriending me. Maybe a few weeks ago he would have been welcome, but as of then, he was but a nuisance.
�Oh!� he toned up after a few minutes of stark reserve on my part, �By the way, my name�s Sing-hun Qite. I�m new here. I forgot the way to my house, but I know it�s this direction� I think.�
A faint, very faint, smile made its way onto my lips as he rambled on nonsensically. Upon reaching my house, I turned to him. �My things,� I said quietly, but firmly.
His speech stopped abruptly and his face saddened to the point of almost matching my own feelings, however, he obliged and forfeited them to me. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
�Good thing my room is on the first floor,� I thought, moving down the hall and into said room.
It hadn�t changed. It looked exactly the same as it had every other day since it had last been painted last. Everything was where I�d left it; every piece of clothing, every knick-knack, every book, every picture. Despite this, there was something distinctly different about the room, something ominous and haunting, and it bit at me as I set down my load on the bureau.
It took a few moments to realize, but then I understood. This was where I was going to die. A small, sinister smile worked its way to my lips and I nodded with renewed understanding. That was it; this was to be my final set in the play that is life.
Upon opening the top drawer of my bureau, my eyes were drawn instantaneously to my tool of choice, a switch blade. �My tenth birthday,� I reminisced, �Dad always wanted a boy, not some girl. Now I can at least take away the burden of a child.�
I pushed the button and it flipped open, as it always had, and I reveled in the sound of its light swish as I placed it to my wrist.
It was all too fitting, the use of my symbol of inferiority to end my life.
I laughed. Not a humored chuckle that one would use if they were watching a comedian, but the erratic, hysterical laughter of someone who knows they are about to meet their end. The laughter shook me, and I slid down the bureau into a half-slumped seated position.
As the laughter dulled and finally ceased, I tipped the blade for the first cut. The slightest amount of pressure had brought up a drop of blood, and I knew what real force could do.
�This is really it,� I whispered, and primed my wrist to cut. A sudden knock on the door cause me to jolt upright, it had caught me off-guard and I choked on the words, �Whoever you are, you�re too late now.�
The knock had shaken me slightly, but I set back to my previous task. Once again, the blade was placed to my wrist, lined up perfectly with the small incision I�d made with minute pressure.
Another knock echoed through the house, this time louder, longer. The second knock left me more timorous and upset, �It�s not that simple,� I sobbed at my bedroom door, then more quietly, �it�s not that simple.�
I was hesitant to lift the blade again, but after fifteen seconds with no knock, I figured whoever it was had left. A deep breath prepped me for the final incision. The blade, already mildly tinged crimson with my own blood, shone playfully as I lowered it to my wrist for the last time. �Good bye,� I called to no one.
An abrupt and tumultuous knock came once more, this time causing me to drop the blade. �Fine,� I shouted at the door, �you win. I�ll answer.�
I picked up the knife, noting the small stains it�d left behind on the carpet, and placed it on my bureau beside all the things I�d brought back from school. My sleeve slipped down, covering the small, bloody cut on the side of my wrist where the blade had perched and I went to the front door.
Standing to the side, I opened it just enough to poke my head through the gap. �You,� I breathed. It was the same boy from before.
�Uh, yeah,� he said, scratching the back of his head, �I forgot to ask before, but what�s your name?�
Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I hesitantly answered, �Soo-young, Soo-young Pak�
�Soo-young huh?� he repeated, �well Soo-young, I�ll see you at school tomorrow.� After getting no reaction from me, he stated, �I must seem like a fool to you, it�s just that I�ve been here three days and no one has said a word to me. When I saw you drop your stuff, I thought it an opportunity to make a friend. If you don�t want to be friends though, just don�t talk to me tomorrow,� he looked down and his tone changed, �I�ll understand. I�m just so�� he paused and looked me square in the eyes and finished, �lonely.�
My mouth gaped slightly at his expression.
�I�m sorry,� he said, noting my reaction, �I�ll go. Don�t worry about it. I�m sorry to have burdened you.� He turned and walked down the sidewalk.
I stood there a few moments, unable to move from my spot, transfixed on that expression.
That expression; the one I knew all too well. The one I�d seen on myself when I looked in the mirror. There it was, on a strange boy�s face, and I couldn�t shake it from my mind.
Finally, I knew what was to be done.
�Wait!� I called, running across my lawn and down the sidewalk after him. He was already half-way down the block, but still, he turned round.
As I drew nearer I saw him, not just some weird guy, but him, Sing-hun Qite. Every detail of him was imprinted on my mind at the moment; from the deep chocolate locks that curled ever so gently at the edges to frame his face to the lightly tanned skin that made his eyes seem like emeralds, perfectly green. Yes, every aspect of him was burning in my brain as I caught up to him.
I huffed lightly, �I�ll see you tomorrow.�