The bell rang for dismissal and I hesitantly walked out. I stood outside and froze in my place, "Did I want to go home? Or did I want to go talk to Ms. Smith?" I stood in the warmth of the spring air for a minute and found myself heading back inside. The door was locked from when I came out and I ran to the other entrance in urgency. I barged back into the classroom, hair in my face.

"What's up? Are you okay?"
"No."

I put my head down on my desk and tarted crying hysterically. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her,

"I'm so scared."

and cried some more.

"What are you scared of?"

I pointed to my head and cried again. She asked me what was it that made me scared. I told her about the thoughts that circulate in and out throughout the day, "Rip off your skin. Poke out your eyes. Pop your lungs." She asked me if I wanted to cut myself, and I said yes. She asked me if I already had. I said no.

No hard questions, mostly yes or no ones. She said that she didn't want to see me off on the weekend if I was feeling like this, so she contacted the guidance counselor, and no response. We walked down together, with me following close behind her long, lean legs, and she slowed down and put my arm around me and told me it'll be okay.

At the guidance counselor's office, no one was really there. My guidance counselor, according to last name, had been out, and the one that I usually spoke to was out of the building. A different guidance counselor, however, had gotten a hold of him and called Ms. Smith in to talk to him. I suppose she explained the situation and how the grey grey voices in my head were whispering bad bad things to me and that I needed help, like, now.

We sat and waited in the office. I watched her fiddle with her bags and things. The office felt like an ice box and I watched my goosebumps make all the hairs on my arm stand up, my hands start to shake and my teeth start to chatter.

Ms. Smith then said, "I forgot!" And I just gave her a questioned look. She took up her purse an took out a small container of Play-Doh and gave me half a piece, "For something to do while we wait."

We sat and played until Mr.Cirocco had come in.

I got up, and Ms. Smith had stopped me and said, "I don't think I can stay around, but here. Everything will be okay, I love you." It sounded so sincere.

I.. I didn't know.. that it was possible to love some sort of monstrous creature like me.

She handed me the rest of the Play-Doh and sat in the familiar office with the familiar Mr. Cirocco. I cried some more, and he put his hand on my arm. It was really hot, but it felt nice on my cool skin -- I could have sworn part of me melted in steam when we made contact -- I heard it. I took out the play-doh from it's container and played as he asked me some trivial questions about the grey grey voices and the bad bad things they say. The warmth from Ms. Smith's hands stuck onto the play-doh as it moved through my fingers. It was like the warmth of her heart was transferred into it too.

After a couple minutes, he finally concluded I get outside help, such as a therapist, I must attend weekly sessions with him.

I called my mother and she didn't comprehend. Mr. Cirocco hearing the frustration I was getting out of the call, took my phone and spoke to her. I understood that she didn't really understand what she was saying and that she was just saying the socially acceptable thing.

We made pinky promises of me not hurting myself, and such.

He had to leave, and he had asked me where I lived to see how long it would take for my mother to get me. I mentioned my address and he knew it along with the other guidance counselor he had sent to babysit me while I wait. Apparently, that's where the other guidance counselor lives. He lives right down the street from me. What a coincidence. He's actually nice, and we got along really well. He also understood what anime was and that was awesome too.

Mr. Cirocco came back to see me one more time, gave me a hug and a kiss on the head.

I was caught off guard... Someone.. someone cares..? Is this really what it feels like?

My mother came, and I had papers for her to sign, and instructions that they had to call in Monday morning. She tried to make me tell her what I'm thinking, and I told her. She thinks I'm crazy.

My dad said he wasn't mad, and he called the school crazy for calling me crazy. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because in NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM did they call me crazy..

Then they both thought it was some big misunderstanding. Some huge joke that this was happening only because it was Friday 13. Totally irrelevant.

It was bound to happen someday, and today it did, but do I have any support from the people who I actually need it most from? No.

I should have never said anything in the first place. I should have kept my mouth locked and tight like I have been for years. They don't get it. They don't understand. They try to explain how upset felt like, but it's a different upset than what I feel. They are not there for me.