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happy?
    To an outsider, I was living the perfect life. To me, I was crippled, a vegetable, anxiously waiting for my death. Please don’t get me wrong—I loved my parents, but I hated my existence. I would never contemplate suicide but I constantly dreamed of death.
    As my mom drove me to school and back I secretly hoped that a car would crash into us and I would die instantly while my mom was left unscathed. I would be sitting in the classroom, dreaming of an earthquake to envelop me in its chaos. I would instantly feel guilty for having these thoughts and tried brushing them off, but they always sneaked back into the forefront of my brain.
    I never felt like I belonged. I couldn’t relate to anyone my age. I looked toward my mom and her friends and I wished I could be them. To skip through my teens and twenties and start fresh in my thirties. I dreamed of being thirty. I dreamed of being an adult.
     
     
    14
     
    A few years later, after trying to hurt myself, and thus hurting my parents, I wrote a letter:
     
Dearest S,
     
I will love myself above all else. I will take care of myself and do whatever is best for me. I will never hurt myself in any way.
     
I won’t be weak or lazy. I will succeed. I will study hard and if I don’t understand something I will seek help. I won’t be afraid to ask for help. I will be able to look at myself in the mirror and smile.
     
I deserve to be happy. I am a good person. I know right from wrong and come from wonderful parents who love me above all else. I am fortunate, but I also deserve to be fortunate. I am a good person.
     
And even though I am overweight, I won’t be for long. I will exercise and control my diet because I love my body and myself. I will not judge others just to judge myself. I shall accept all consequences and will learn from all mistakes. I won’t give up on myself.
     
I am only 18 years old. I have my whole life to be happy and watch myself succeed. The only person I can disappoint is myself and I won’t do that any longer.
     
Any free time I have will be out doing something that makes me happy, that I enjoy, or that is good for me. I am the only one who can make me happy or feel beautiful, and I intend to follow this through. I won’t give up on myself. I mean too much just to give up.
     
I am beautiful…I am smart…I am wonderful. And I will be happy. Mark my words. I will succeed. I won’t give up. I will love myself! Thanks for giving me a second chance. I will not fail.
     
    -Sophie 12/21/02
     
    I could not understand that the unhappiness I felt was an illusion I created. I was the only person who could make myself happy and steer toward a great life. My perfect life. I did not understand, could not understand—my naivety always the key factor—that is, until my Junior year of college, when I met the man who would change all that.
     

 
    Part two
     
    Wandering through hell,
    Flames licking at my boot heels;
    I should have gone right.
    ~Kyle Harper, Wrong Turn
     

 
     
     
    ~ Liam ~
     
     
    1
     
    I jolted up from my rumpled sheets. My head pounding. My eyes hazed. The music was deafening. What the fuck? The clock read 2:00 A.M. Noise was blazing from…what seemed like was just outside my bedroom door. I looked like a mess with my muddled, mousy-brown hair and boxers that resembled Swiss cheese. I grabbed my gold-rimmed eyeglasses, pulled my jeans on and headed toward the door.
    I winced. The cold floor stung my feet. It was Christmas morning and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would crank the stereo. I felt sorry for the Christian family next door who was probably resting in anticipation of a busy day ahead of them. I just hoped, for the parents’ sake, that Santa already came to visit. I opened the door.
    The space was filled with a cloudy haze of smoke. A sweet and sour aroma filled my nostrils, evidence from the events of only a few hours ago. Empty Filippi’s pizza boxes, beer cans, stacked newspapers,