"I'm sick of you," she spat. "sue me. I hate your face, your eyes, your hair, your voice, your laugh... everything. I hate your popularity, your music, your beauty. But I want it. I want it more than breath and fog and trees. I envy your soul, the empty sparkles in your eyes. I wish I was your doppel-ganger, your carbon copy. I want to be your shadow. And that's why I hate you. You are everything I want to be."

The other recoiled. Tears formed.

The speaker felt the deepest satisfaction. She spoke again, venom spewing.

"I wish you would die. I want everyone to be sad, and move on. I want your face forgotten, like me. I wish I didn't have to see your footsteps wherever I go. Every forest. Every god forsaken city has your traces. I see your sadness in rain, hear your words in candle smoke...

You might love me, but I don't care. I will never care. I don't need you and I never did. Stop talking to me. Stop trying to reach me with words dryer than the dust on your bookshelves. I tear them apart like brittle ancient maps, watching the pieces fall without regret.

"I wish you never talked to me. I wish I never told you my phone number. I don't want to hear you. Your voice is like shattering glass, sharp and broken. Stop talking down to me like some ignorant child. I know more about anything than you do. I hear the trees whisper, I know the voices of the fog. I can tell you every river-secret. Like you would care. All you love is your vanity. But you are ugly, like a peacock without feathers. Like a dove without a voice.

"You paste makeup on your lonely face, all in hopes it will make up for the feathers, the voice. You tease your hair, put hairspray in it, hoping the smell covers up the scent of dryness and dust about you. But I'm smarter than that. I see it in your sick-looking expressions and lifeless eyes. You see beauty only in sadness and ruin, which is exactly what you are. You are a wreck. A mess. A mistake. And every one loves you. You don't deserve affection, you little liar.

"Show me every white scar. Show them to me, then I'll believe you. You ignorant attention-seeking whiner. I hate you. You aren't sad. Not like me."

She paused. The other opened her mouth.

"Don't you speak. You have nothing of worth to say; every word is a waste of space and time. Save your oxygen for people who give a care. Save it for the waste of lives you call friends. I hope they all desert you. I hope being alone is your greatest fear. I hope the company of the trees gives you nightmares. I hope the trees leave you...

I never want to see you here again. You make the ghosts come out of the closets. If this were a letter, I would end it now. Not with something pleasant on the tongue, but something to make your skin crawl and cause you to look about the room when you think you hear my voice. Listen.

Goddamn you,

Abby"

And so she faded from the room. If you weren't looking, you wouldn't believe it.

I wish people would just say when they don't care.

It saves you a hell of a lot of time.

I'm really good at pretending to be okay. I smile and laugh with you, maybe even talk. But it's a lie, a facade to keep you from seeing my real self, my bloody face, my empty eyes. A wall to keep the questions out. Sometimes my reality seeps between the cracks, revealed by my actions and speech, but in reality, you know nothing. Don't even pretend to.

I'm excellent at making you think I love you. I say it, but the words stick in my throat like cobwebs. Dry. Empty. I may have loved you at one time or other, but you stepped over the line. You violated your boundaries, destroyed the fragile windows through which I was happy to see you. Now I see you through my reddened eyes, my rage. I talk to myself when I see you. Say I hate you, call you names I would never dare to speak, in my thoughts. You fool.

I'm great at making you feel like my friend. I smile when I see you, embrace you back, but I don't mean it. In reality you mean absolutely nothing to me. It's all your fault. You ignore me, you make and break promises. In reality, you do the very same thing as me. You hate, you lie, you deceive. Don't imagine yourself in your self-centered cloud of perfection. You are worthless garbage. Welcome to my world.

I'm wonderful at many other things, too:

• Arrogance
• Vanity
• Lying
• Causing pain
• Ignorance
• Worthlessness
• Doubt
• Anger
• Hate
• Sadness
• Running away
• Laziness

But what I'm truly best at is making everyone hate me.

Why I Hate Scene Kids- a list of my many pet peeves.

• Their attitude. They think, 'OMG look at mai kool hairzz... and mah fricken TUUU-TUUU.' Who the heck cares. You look like imbiciles, and will never be taken seriously by anyone. Not too mention that you're so stuck up you can only have other idiot emo/scene/WHATEVER as friends, or you lose, lyk, koolness pointz. Grow up.
• How they act in public with all their little friends. They yell and generally act obnoxious. Believe me, most people don't appreciate the F-bomb dropped every four seconds at the top of your lungs in front of their kids.
• Their music. Screamo isn't that great. Sorry to burst your little 'lawlimsohardcorecauseilikeSCREAMOmannn...' bubble. Same for emo music.
• Clothing. Good.lord. I don't even know how to describe how much I hate scene kid clothes. It's so... lurid. (most of you scene kiddies will need your dictionaries now) And flashy... obnoxious. It's not cute. It's not even attractive.
• Pictures. It always either showcases their hair, makeup, unrealistically short skirts, boobs, or all of the above. Posed provacatively, usually.... then they show all their little friends and they try to copy them, and now we have obscene (ha, see what I did there? ;D Scene kids might need some help to figure it out) amounts of ridiculous pictures of 14 year-old girls pulling their shirts up just so, because it makes them cool. Whatever.
• Obsession with dinosaurs. What.the.heck. Please tell me who started this so we can burn them at the stake.
• Cutting/Depression. Yeah, yeah... they're both serious problems, etc. etc... but the scene community uses both for the attention. "LYK, yeah. I haz som scarz on mah wrists. LOVE MEH BECAUSE IM SADDDD. =[[[[[" or "im sooo frickkennnn angry at every1... no one understandzz meh... iz so artistec... yeh, im kool." *rips hair out*
• Hair. 0__o I have no words. I hate it so much.
• Language. The very worst of which is 'rawr'. Followed closely by 'mai', 'meh', 'mah', 'lyk', 'atm', and others.
• Makeup. (I will admit, I wore heavy eye makeup for a period in my life. But I stopped) They think it makes them look so cool. In reality, they look like dumb kids desperately vying for attention. Lay off.
• Hearts. Here is the average scene girl conversation; "Soooo, yuppp. i went to lyyyyyyyyk hottopic 2day and got a frikkkkkkkkeeeeeeeennnnnnnnn awesom shirt. it has, lyk, skullz razorz and bluddd on ittt. <3>
• Broken Hearts. a.k.a. 'less than three'. Made even more irritating when they post a single broken heart and all their friends go, "ohemgee, whats wrongggg? =[[[" Come on.

This about covers it. Thanks (or no thanks, depending on who you are) for reading this. It was a great vent/stress reliever ever. (I loved making up the scene kid dialogue) If you have any others, please comment.

The Express.

He sits there in a train full of people,

Surrounded yet alone the whole time.

He doesn't understand what just happened.

He's lost inside the maze of his own mind.

The world can be a cruel place

Taking while never giving back the lives it captures

it it's deathly grip of greed, of murder, of lies.

The closest that he's ever had to family

Was snatched, it seems, far before his own time.

He suddenly snaps back to the present,

Looks out the window with a blank stare.

He notices the whispers from the opposite end

of the carriage he is sharing with his friends.

He knows the love him deeply,

But they don't understand the pain of

having love wrested from your grip.

He looks at their worried faces and smiles,

Not really meaning it. They look at each other,

and cautiously smile back,

Neither of them knowing exactly what to say.

He sits back wearily and turns his head,

This week has seemed like several years.

His face pops into his mind again.

Now he silently fights back tears.

He wonders if it will ever be okay,

and speaks into the fog in his brain.

If I stayed on this train

Until that dark September,

Do you think the whole wide world won't know I came?

If I stayed right here, fading to the background

would my pain dissolve the same?

Would all forget my name?

But he knows he can't escape this.

To fight is his fate.

Living or dying, victory or grim defeat.

This is the fear he'll have to face.

The breaks squeal loudly to the fog.

His thoughts come to a halt.

Resignedly, he stands. Walks out to the platform,

says goodbye again.

He does not know where fate is leading,

But he will follow all the same.

Though tonight he is grieving,

he knows that this will light the way.

----------------------------------------------------------

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX SPOILER WARNING!

"As the train slowed in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual." - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pg. 866-867 by J.K. Rowling.

This poem/song/etc. was inspired by what I imagine Harry was feeling on the ride home from Hogwarts after Sirius was killed. I claim no ownership of the Harry Potter series or it's characters. All rights to J.K. Rowling.

Haunt.

I hear the creaking of their steps along the hallway floor

I know the squealing of the hinges on every single door

I see the skeletons at night when I'm alone

Dancing to the tick of the mantelpiece clock, the ringing of the phone

A sad and mournful dance they dance,

In pairs, one by one, spinning circles in the dust upon the floor

And while, at first, it's a rather terrifying sight

Their creaking bones, their evil smiles

I've come to find I enjoy their dances night after night

I do not fear their eyeless gaze

Nor the dusty bones

Nay, what I fear the most of all

Is the day I return home