//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: To Whom it may concern 
// by Saro0fdemonz 
//------------------------------//

"No one understands what its like. No one knows what it feels like. No one knows how much it hurts just existing. I have so many wonderful friends, but so often I feel alone. And of course, everyone's confused. How can I feel alone with all these friends? Having so many friends, I should be happy, I should never feel alone, because I never am alone.

But that's what it's like. I guess that just really makes my point, huh?

I want to be happy, I really really do! But it's so hard. It takes so much effort just to stand and walk and put on a smile. It's a constant struggle to not break down into tears and to beg for it all to end. But I can't do that. For some reason I just have to keep going, going day by day until...until something? Why am I pushing myself through each day? Why do I get up in the morning? It isn't making me happy, so why do it?

But I put on the smile. And I say hi to everyone, and I work through the day, and I play games, and I put on a brave face, but really, not once in my life have I ever felt what its like to be truly happy. I can't remember the last time I ever felt true happiness. I don't even know what its like, to just live and to be happy. To have a reason to wake up, to have a reason to smile, to have a reason to live.

Sometimes I get a tiny taste, for just a moment, there's light. But then I'm back in that dark hallway, and that light is just a teensy tiny flashlight and I'm on my last few batteries. There's no chance of getting any new ones, the flashlight doesn't even open, the light just gets smaller and smaller and I start to panic. I can't breath, I can't see, I can't think, but if I don't do something then everyone is going to notice something is wrong. So I joke, and I laugh, and I smile through the darkness.

The flashlight flickers and I desperately smack it just to eek out as much juice as I can from the batteries until finally the light dies and I'm alone in the darkness. The hallway becomes a box and my friends voices and all the happy things are muffled outside the box. Everyone tries to call out to me, the ones that know I am suffering, but can't understand.

Of course, there are those that know I am suffering, but think it's nothing. It's all in my head, I need to just get over it.

All I can hear is the yelling, the anger that's louder than the kindness. How terrible I am at everything, how useless I am, how slow I am, how pathetic I am.

No one understands what it's like, how it feels, how much it hurts.

They think I'm being dramatic, they think it's for show. They think I just want attention. Attention is the last thing I want. I don't want people realizing how messed up I am. Just imagining what they would think of me causes panic attacks. And then I think about how they would speak to me, how some of them HAVE spoken to me. 

If I was really sad, I wouldn't be talking about it, I wouldn't bring it up. I HAVE to be just trying to get someone's attention since I am reaching out and saying 'hey, i'm sad'. And that's the thing. I don't talk about it, because I know if I did, this is how everyone would react.

And this is how we get where we are now. Where I am now. Where I've been before so many times and where I guess I will always be.

No one knows how hard it is, just to breath, to open your eyes, to speak, to be.

Everyday, I put on that smile, I wave, I laugh, I crack bad jokes and I drag myself through the day, no one knowing just how much I'm hurting on the inside. If I told them, would they care? No, they would just tell me to stop being so sad, to quit being dramatic.

Other people have it worse than me. Sure, that's true. But just because someone else is suffering more doesn't mean my suffering means nothing. Sure, I feel bad about that person having to suffer, I don't want anyone to suffer from anything. No one deserves this, no one should have to feel this way, and yet I feel this way.

But if I told them, they wouldn't care.

Everyday is a battle of 'why bother?'.

Everyday is a struggle of 'Does it even matter?'

But no one cares. The box gets smaller, the anger grows louder and I agree with them.

I'm not good enough, I can never be good enough. I will never be good enough. No matter what. Everytime I think I have gotten better its the opposite. I'm worse than I ever was. I've even gotten bad at hiding it. More and more I get asked if I am okay, and that just bugs me more.

Has it gotten so bad that everyone can just SEE it?

I guess I really have dragged this on forever. I'm sorry friends, I'm sorry that this was how it all ends. I'm sorry that I can't be strong enough. I'm sorry that all of you have to see me like this. 

I'm sorry that I was a part of your lives.

I'm sorry that I tried.

I'm sorry that I lived."

The note fell to the ground, silent as it floated along, landing gently against the floor; It's gentle descent contrasted heavily by the following gunshot. Ponies rushed into the building, but by then, there was only a note.

No one believed it, no one could explain it.

No one could understand.