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My razors are hidden behind the lose board in the wall. Of corse, it’s not lose anymore, I tightened it and put the screwdriver in the hidden compartment in my dresser along with my notes, poems, stories and art. They’ve searched me, thinking I’d be stupid enough to cut my wrists, were everyone could see. They never suspected that the cuts on my legs weren’t from shaving. I got more tactful after that, taking dad’s tools and making a hole in the back of my closet and following the instructions I got off the net, made myself another hiding place. But this one was bigger and had shelves covered with vials of various pain killers, drugs and poisons, bits of electrical wire, rope, thread, what ever could be used to kill. Like I said, they had their suspicions, but after their search turned up nothing, they forgot about it. My friends never paid attention, so when I started skipping, no one noticed. I was 18, so I wrote my own notes saying I had appointments and what not.

I started going out at night and hang with new friends. We had common interests, like death, pain and suffering. We would experiment together trying new things, some of us went further then others. Ran into my old friends once, they almost didn’t recognise me. My hair use to be brown and I always wore bright colours and no jewellery. Now I was covered in black from head to toe, my earings, my choker, my make-up, my close, my pail complection, but my eyes gave me away. Rumours started spreading that I was a whore, but I never lost my virtue. I did experiment with thing like my threshold of pain, and I did give pleasure to more then one guy in my group of friends, but we had made a consent not to sleep with each other. I never smoke, never did drugs, but I got them.

My grades never changes, even if I never showed up for class except for tests and exams. Doesn’t say much for the system if I could read the book and past. I past 5th in my class, but only because I didn’t really care. In university I studied psychology and my friends and I cad a good laugh when we read the classic sines of what we "suffered" from and rolled our eyes at the solutions that were said to work: counselling, medication, therapy. We all tried those things, but it never worked. At one point we all did think there was something wrong with us and we really wanted help. But we all realised fairly quickly that those who were suppose to help us were more concerned with their next paycheck then how we really felt. We could read it in their eyes, just like everyone else. That’s why we clicked, we cared, it was why we were like this, why we suffered.

Their were problems in the world, hunger, famine, poverty, war. And we had already found a pretty good solution: Pay the politicians and actors less and give it to health care and invest in the agricultural development of third world counties. Not just give money to their government who used it to buy weapons from us in the black market. We mailed our suggestions to every Radio and TV station along with all the politicians and celebrities of the world.

We were all smart, no dom, but we wee content with our lives. And we had all come to a consensus. We took on disciples and created a new religion "The Saints of Hell" and taught them of death and our beliefs in it. We concluded that wen you died, you don’t go to heaven or hell, or any other conscious plane of existence, but that your energy, your life force, simply left your body and it melded with the earth. At some point your energy might enter into contact with a human and blend with them, causing some to believe in reincarnation. We all when together, the elder ones, all 15 of us were 25. No pain, no suffering, carbon monoxide poisoning. We all fell asleep, but never woke up. Now we float here and wait to meld with a human, to be "reincarnated" and see if the world had changed.

We chose to leave this world not because we were insane, but because we felt we had nothing more to this world. We knew that if we died, then the letters we had sent out might have a better chance to make people stop and think. We left behind a 20 page essay as to why we were tired of the hypocrisy in the world and how we knew that only with our death could the world change. Only when a select few go all the way will people stop and think and realise that they can make a difference, if they are willing to go all the way.