Disclaimer: This story is going to start with a pretty dark plotline. So if you're easily effected by sensitive subjects e.g depression, I wouldn't suggest reading this.

It is not my intention to offend anyone who may me going through a seriously hard time. After all, depression isn't a funny matter and should be taken seriously. Please don't take everything written in this book as fact.

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Taylor's P.O.V

What is life?

Many of us probably ask ourselves that question when we pick ourselves up in the morning, or when we're doing our usual tasks with our day to day lives.

Honestly, what is it?

I have asked this question to myself, countless times, hoping that maybe I could be able to answer this pointless question that had been bugging me for years on end.

The truth is, I've never found an answer, and I don't think I ever will. I've always heard the pathetic bullshit, spewed from happy people's mouths as if they know exactly what they're talking about. As if life is all fine and dandy, and they have it all figured out in their little comfort zone.

These people talk like they could calculate the exact meaning behind our existence. About why we are even here, and why we should bother doing what we must - live. I've been told countless times by many, about the fact that there's always something to stick around for. Everyone has that one thing that keeps them around for some sort of reason.

So why haven't I found it? I've had 16 years of my fucking life, just to find a god damn thing that was actually important to me, something worth breathing and putting all my energy into. But nothing.

It's true, I have dark thoughts, and have for quite a good considerable amount of my life. My dad - a single parent, since my mom passed when I was little, sent me to counsellor after counsellor, just trying to find the exact root of my problems. To find out why I was the way I was.

But I always felt like that I was just being sent to these sessions, because my dad knew he couldn't deal with me. He couldn't take me sobbing in my room for hours on end, crying about literally nothing. I'd never know why I'd start crying, it just... Happens. And I'd always need something to take that pain away.

It only helps momentarily, but it's still help nonetheless.

Anyway, I quit my last counsellor sessions, and my dad stopped bothering trying to send me to them. He knew that I'd never listen, and I'd never obey him. I always felt like he was too soft, because he pretty much let me get away with anything, no matter how much he protested. But he decided that maybe just focusing on school would be best for me.

As if.

I was the loner. The one no one talked to, and the one no one liked. Cliche, right? The depressed girl, who sits at the back of the class and literally says nothing? Well, that's what my life is like.

Though, it's not like anyone at school knows about my issues. Weirdly enough, I've always been pretty good at hiding my true nature around the other students. I've acted cheery and happy when need be, when really the only thing I feel on the inside when I'm smiling on the out is.... Nothing. I never know what to feel.

It's a wonder as to why I am still around at all. Like I said, I've never found importance in anyone or anything, and I've always had that voice in the back of my head, that tells me I should just drop dead. It's not like anyone would miss me. My dad would probably feel relieved, knowing he'd never have to hear me scream or cry again.

My teachers would probably be happy to have one extra student in the class who actually puts their time into the lesson, rather than dozing off to not literally give a single shit about this cruel, dark world.

Besides, seeing as I had pretty much been feeling this way my whole life, (even before my mum died) it just makes me think that maybe I had always been destined to die. That maybe this was how I was supposed to go. That I was supposed to just realize it and do the damn bidding myself.

I noticed that this entire time, as I had been thinking my thoughts over in my head about my worthless, meaningless life, the classroom I was sitting in at school, had gone dead silent.

Everyone appeared to be staring at the front of the class, staring at a girl with bright green eyes, and short, goth-like black hair. She was the complete opposite of me - dressed in black ripped jeans, to a black tank top with a red checkered unbuttoned flannel over it. Her eyes were circled in a huge amount of black eyeliner, while her lips were also painted in a dark shade of, well, black. And despite that, she seemed to have an unmistakeable smile on her face. Perhaps appearances weren't everything.

Yeah, you'd know. She thought to herself, as she looked down at her hot pink t-shirt. Despite probably being one of the most depressing people on the planet, she had quite a girly fashion sense herself.

"Students. I'd like you to welcome our new student, Sam." The teacher spoke. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Sam?"

"Uh, sure." The girl spoke, standing with her hands in the pockets of her dark jeans. Her green eyes stared around at everyone in the class. For a mere moment, her eyes landed on me, Taylor. The moment she looked at me, I avoided all eye contact with this new mysterious girl.

"Well, I'm Sam. I just moved here from New York a week ago. The place was just way too cramped and filled with people. So I prefer being here already - in L.A. It's quite nice... I uh, can't wait to get to know some of you, I guess."

This girl seemed slightly awkward, as she stood there talking about herself, and she had the exact voice that you'd probably expect for such a face. She turned to the teacher.

"Can I sit down now?" She asked, and the teacher nodded.

Walking from the front of the class, in her (believe it or not) black killer boots, she sat at the empty desk right across from me, who let out a small sigh as she did.

Great, another student I had to inevitably fool into believing she was something I wasn't...