There was always something wrong with me. At least, according to everyone else. I was too small, I talked funny, my autism contributed to me being called a freak, I was too caught up in my own little world. My mom was the only one who told me that I mattered, who made it seem like the whole world wasn't against me.

   Until the fire.

   I was only six. A neighbor had pulled me out. I barely even knew what was happening. My mother's bedroom door had gotten stuck, and the window was too small for her to fight through and crawl out of. The firemen were too late. They pulled her body from the fire and someone told me that she was gone. I cried for months, I still cry for my lost mother. I refused to come out of my closet sized bedroom given to me by my "generous" foster parents.

   That was eight years ago.

   Since then, no one wanted anything to do with me. I was teased relentlessly. I tried to avoid my abusive and mean foster parents whenever possible, but I was punished severely for even the slightest infractions. If I was late coming home, I was beat and yelled at. If spoke "disrespectfully" or "rudely" to them or their obnoxious son, I was beat and yelled at. It was a meager and bleak existence. Every day I broke down and cried as soon as my face hit my pillow, using it to muffle my sobs.

   One especially desolate night, it really hit me that no one cared. I thought that taking my own life would be the only way to stop the endless cycle of pain and misery. I believed that no one would care or notice, but I felt compelled to leave some kind of final message. I snuck downstairs to quietly boot up the computer. I logged into my Facebook account, and began to type.
 

    I know that no one will read this or even care, I wrote, but I just wanted to say goodbye. I can't take the pain anymore. I need it to stop, and this is the only way to do it.

   I hit send, and began to turn away from the computer. Suddenly, a reply to the message had appeared.

   Life is never easy, but this won't make anything go away. I know, I've been through a lot myself. I almost gave up too. I hope I'm not too late. Even if you think that no one will miss you, I will. You matter in this world.

   I read and reread the message. Finally, it began to actually sink in. Maybe I did matter. I went to school the next day, and yes I was still teased, but it didn't hurt as much. Carrying that message in my heart, the fact that someone thought that I mattered in this world... it helped in a way. Maybe it was my own personal guardian angel... But they saved me.