Born into a broken society, with standards that are impossible to reach. Surrounded by a bipolar population and an unfortunate generation of misfits and freaks. Each of us living in our heads, hiding behind labels from magazines. We're the kids our parents warned us about. I'm the one that I never thought I would be. I'm a ***** and a ****. I'm pathetic because I cut. I'm the definition of a "mistake". I'm in pain. I'm sitting on the bathroom floor at four o'clock in the morning with a bottle of painkillers and a puddle of blood and tears beside me, I'm questioning whether or not I should keep trying. Maybe tomorrow is not worth seeing. Maybe I get up every morning for absolutely nothing. Maybe the only option I have left is dying. I'm sorry, but I just wasn't made for surviving. Blood falling to the floor, tears streaming down my face, pain running through my veins. It's worse now. It's all hidden behind a smile and some pills. I'm drowning now, yet no one seems to care. Food tells me to starve, blades tell me to cut, while society sits there listening to my screams. I'm dying now, still no one comes to save me. You're too late now. So here is my future, here is my unfortunate ending; Blood in a puddle on the floor, tears and dried makeup on my face, pain once again winning this game while I lay lifeless on the tile. I'm the girl without a name.