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As I sit here at the computer listening to a sleeping household, I feel as if I'm an intruder... a disturber of the peace if you will. For the past few months, I have been unable to put my restless mind at ease, often finding myself pondering the meaning of my life... what its significance is to me and those around me. I cant help but wonder what my purpose is. In all reality, I see myself as something to be used and discarded of, seeing as that has been the case all my young life. I've come to realize that most people view others as a means to an end... a tool to gained desired results. It is terrible the way we use others and never truly come to realize it, however, it is in human nature to do so. Most of the time it is harmless, for we rely on others for assistance or companionship. Other instances, individuals are left broken and with a sense of loss. Not only is the heart left with a wound that will never mend, but something within us dies... the death of trust or innocence.

Since I was a little girl, I have always sought to be an optimist. I have attempted to see the better side of life... that tiny flicker of light that sends shadows seeking refuge of their dark corners. People could do no wrong, as far as I was concerned. If they violated my trust, I gave them another chance. It they acted cruelly, I sought to excuse their behavior.

Unfortunately, I held this viewpoint for many years. My peers found it amusing and sought to destroy me... to see me suffer, even though I had done nothing unto them. I was naive and thought the reason people hated me so was due in part to a flaw in my character. I blamed myself when friends I had known for ages abandoned me. I saw myself as a monstrosity when others critiqued me, particularly when they focused their malicious attacks on my weight and personality. I was beaten into submission when I spoke my mind, defending those whom would not give me the time of day. I was told I was worthless by people I had trusted for years, people who promised they would be there for me until whatever end...

I began to detest myself. I lost faith in people... I viewed promises as being nothing more than hollow words. My mind became frail and more susceptible to the continuing mental onslaught. People hated me so much... and I didn't understand why. They told me how no one cared for me and harassed me about why I continued to live... about how I should do the world a favor and died already.

One day I lost what little self perseverance I had left. I thought I would do everyone a favor and end my life. After all, I was just another statistic. Another nameless face with a weak spirit, unable to cope with the real world. A poor excuse of a daughter, a pathetic friend, a useless member of society.

The ladder was there. The distance was 21 feet even. My 110 pounds should have been enough. A graceful swan dive from the roof. A quick death. Not so much a death to the body, but rather to the mind. A broken neck. A possible hope. Someone could harness my organs. The paramedics could make it in time to resuscitate the body. Keep it alive... just long enough for transfer. Yes. There it was, all perfectly planned out. I stood up there, taking in the breathtaking view around my family's home, musing the irony of the beuaty before me. I had emailed my best friend and relayed my deepest regrets to him... I hadn't the heart to speak with him. I assured myself that the letter I had written would be found, and that the scrapbook would be taken and shown to those on the list... those friends who had forsaken me, so they could feel regret for the rest of their miserable lives... I can keenly remember the slight stinging sensation as the light breeze dried the tears which had run freely many minutes before. I could have ended it all there, but I didn't. I recall getting ready to jump... and all the worries and regrets that flooded my mind then... I felt ashamed.

I realized, up there on the roof, that perhaps my life was important. That there were people who cared about me... that why should I bring pain and anguish to those I loved. What purpose would it serve?

I sat up there numbly for what seemed like an eternity, truly shocked at how close I had come to throwing my life away. At how stupid I had been. My mother called me in a few hours later, telling me their was British guy on the phone. I nearly fell off the roof.

Oddly, that was the first time I had talked to my one of my best friends, a young boy British by the name of Luke. I remember him crying and later scolding me for being so foolish... He made clear that if I ever pulled such a stunt like that again, he personally come and box my ears in. I nearly laughed myself to death, despite the seriousness of the situation. God, how I miss him...

Despite being ill treated on innumerable occasions, I have decided to once again adopt the mantle of an optimist. I have also come to comprehended something. I realize that everyone is treated poorly at some point or another. That while there are cruel folks there are just as many kind ones. That those who truly matter don't judge you based on petty matters. Those who are truly your friends will not abandon you just to save face with another.

Life lessons are funny, and sometimes they require a sharp kick in the rear before we recognize them.

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