On the 25th night of November, the year was 2000; a barrage of colored flashing lights and police cars flooded the small suburban corner of Saintlihood and Markinson. The rain pounded the pavement as the Sheriff�s orders smothered the muffled, hushed whispers of the onlookers who lined the outskirts of the sidewalk. Past the caution tape, through the front yard, just beyond the threshold there stood a tall willowy woman with short auburn hair framing her pale, elegantly made up face. Her emerald green eyes were swollen and filled to the brim with tears. The woman that stared through those eyes was not completely there. She stared into a nothingness that couldn�t be seen by anyone else. Arms folded she stood there shaking so slightly, yet so violently that it looked unnatural, as if she were some kind of battery operated mechanical thing.

Dear Diary,
The date is October the 1st, 2000, and this is officially my first entry. I don�t know what is exactly supposed to go in a diary, so I�ll just write what I see fit. Well, to anyone who may actually find this without my knowing, and by some unfortunate circumstance, reads it; my name is Corin Madison and I live in Ada, Ohio. I�ve lived here for most of my life with my mom, dad, and my sister Cathrine. My sister and I have always been what you might call �good kids�. We are a year apart (she�s older) and have basically been rivals since we were in diapers and although I could endlessly drone on and on about how life has never really been fair for me, I will spare you this time and save that enticing information for another entry.
I guess you could call me an over achiever. You know me. I was the quiet one in grade school who they labeled the smartest girl in the class. I was the one who others went to to check their work. I was the one who they envied until they realized it was no use. That it really didn�t matter what they did because I would always do better and be praised for it. You could always go to the bulletin board and see �Corin Madison� under the �Student of the Month� banner, or walk a couple of paces and see the class� best works in which my work was always prevalent. I was an over achiever because that was all I knew how to be. I mean, going �out� wasn�t my forte. I would rather go up to my room and read a good Anne Rice novel, her world of vampires and alchemists was much more enthralling than hanging with friends. I would go out every once in a while but hey, I was in junior high for crying out loud.
This would all change in the summer before I entered high school. As a preteen I was always taller than the other girls, which didn�t bother me the least bit. However, I was a late bloomer, and we all know how goes. But it seems that when the summer ended, I was just right although I took no notice of it. The first day of my freshman year in school, I went about my normal way of doing things. I got my schedule and promptly went to my first class. This turned out to be one of the best days of my life. No one recognized me! Well, except for my best friend Saiyla, but she doesn�t count. Everyone was astounded when I told them it was me, Corin Madison. �You look so different� most said with raised eyebrows and blank expressions. From then on, I wasn�t the old Corin anymore. I was � I was perfect. At least in the eyes of my peers. Soon I realized that I looked like what most girls dreamed of looking like; Tall, slim, well proportioned etc. I really didn�t see what the big deal was, to me, I was the old Corin. My freshman year went by in a flash with lots of new friends to hang out with and lots of new places to go, my old confidant Anne Rice was no longer a top priority. However, unlike most people in their �rise to the top� of the despicable social ladder, I did not abandon Saiyla. We will never lose each other. Anyway, I spent my time on the social scene, going to parties, shopping, and although my grades didn�t deviate from what they were back in junior high, I didn�t really care as much about them as I used to. Doing homework was now a chore instead of an intelligent way to spend my afternoons. My mom saw this change in me and instead of encouraging me to stick to my studies, she was happy and relieved that I had more friends and that I went out more. This was fine and dandy with me, although now that I think back, she never really nagged about anything. Every now and then she would give me a �suggestion� about what to wear or something small like that, but I never took her advice. But I digress (Yes! I did say digress). I had a circle of friends and guys who actually took interest in me, or so I heard it through the grape vine. The year was overall, the best year of my life. But as all good things tend to do, that year came to an end, and I was actually content because I had grown weary of going here and there. I was reverting back to the old Corin, who apparently never really left.
My sophomore year was an uneventful blur to say the least. Then in the summer that followed, my life ended. Saiyla Archnoi, of 16 years, the same Saiyla Archnoi who was part of me, who never let me down, who was there for me when I wasn�t around for myself, who saw the me that no one else cared to see, died in a car accident. They say even though I am 30 lbs. heavier I took it really well. They find it bizarre that I did not cry at her funeral, and they, with their overpriced psychology degrees from ivy league colleges, diagnose my �condition� as a , get this, � a borderline personality disorder brought on by severe emotional trauma and distress�.
I am now a junior, and the only reason why I�m writing in this journal is because I have no where else to store my thoughts and feelings. No one understands me. No one ever did, except Saiyla. And Saiyla is dead now. I no longer �hang out�, and no guys are interested in my, I don�t even know where the grape vine is, much less have connections as to who is saying what about me. Ironically, this year started off just like my freshman year did, people were definitely in awe, but it was a type of disgust that riddled their hushed words. �Is that Corin�? Yes, it�s still me. Don�t you see? I never changed! Stop staring at me, don�t pity me and for Christ�s sake, stop being extra nice and friendly towards me when you see me in the hall. Just leave me alone. The past couple of years of my life, in a nut shell�


Dear Diary,
The date is October the 5th and I don�t really want to do much of anything. I sit and sit and sit by the window and stare out into the darkness. My eyes are open but I�m not really there. Sitting and sitting in one place thinking can really make a person realize what a terrible place the world can be. And in contemplating about how life was perfect a year ago, I began to think about other problems in the world. I feel overwhelmed. I can�t walk down the street without there being a thought in my head of them staring at me. I can�t look people in the eyes; I would rather not walk on the same side walk if someone is coming on the opposite side. I look back at the pictures of the good ole days and want to look that way again. If I could just be a new Corin. Just have that circle of friends once more, maybe I wouldn�t be so empty inside.
Ann Rice doesn�t seem so interesting anymore, and schoolwork gives me a head ache. Now, I just sit, think, and write and sulk and ponder, and my mind wanders, and I try to remember when I was happy. I try to remove myself from the present and go back. If I could� Now I just sit and when the pain in my stomach has manifested itself into a head ache, and it hurts to think, I eat just enough to appease my wretched existence. The year is dragging on, and I am not really caring about much of anything.

Dear Diary,
The date is October the 8th 2000 and I have been thinking, and even though this happened a year ago, I have only really just thought about it fully.
When I look at the kids who shot and killed people and then turned the gun on themselves I don�t see monsters or demented psychopaths. I see someone like myself, someone who has feelings and thoughts and desires and needs. For it wasn�t hate that drove them to their actions, it was love. In life, anyone that is human is only made whole if he is loved. Acceptance is vital to being human. Being picked on and sneered at because of the way you look can be damaging on both ends. Case and point, Columbine high school. Most people cannot begin to understand what it must be like to feel useless, unwanted and unloved. Most of us find self value in the value that others give us. Clich�s go on and on about how in order to love someone, you must first love yourself; however, when you look to your parents and they are blind, and you have no friends, self hatred becomes your only ally. You engage in �self destructing behavior� and forget the anger, sadness, hatred, and loneliness that plague your days. These misguided, or perhaps that�s where in lies the problem. Perhaps there was no guidance at all. These children allowed malice to encapsulate them and lashed out, leaving death, destruction, chaos and questions in their wake. It�s the pain that drove them to do such things. If you looked in the mirror and saw something that was pathetic, ugly and unloved staring back at you, how would you deal with it? The greatest abomination on this planet is a seed that has the potential to become the most beautiful flower in creation that is unnourished and left to linger in the waste that is human society. We must look deeper, and in doing this we will see that everyone deserves kindness and most importantly, everyone needs love.

Dear Diary,
The date is October the 15th, 2000 and I don�t want to eat. I don�t want to sleep. I don�t want to live. I don�t want to do anything anymore. When I go to school, I see how I used to be, thin and beautiful. When I turn on the television, I see the old me. I see what I had and what I will never again be able to have. Maybe I shouldn�t eat so much anymore. I feel useless.

Dear Diary,
The date is October the 25th, 2000. My mother took me to see a doctor again. She was crying. Why? It�s not so bad. She�ll see. She won�t have to worry about anything anymore. She won�t have to pay the expensive doctor�s bill.

Dear Diary,
The date is November the 15th, 2000. I haven�t been writing because my mother had me committed. I hope she�s happy that she spent thousands of dollars for �treatment� that did not work. I still feel the same inside, although I look different outside. I know what I must do.

Dear Diary,
The date is November the 24th, 2000 and this is for all who care to read it.
I have been contemplating doing this for an entire month now, and if you are reading this, then I finally had the guts to do it. Mom and dad, I love you guys, don�t blame yourselves because you tried to help me and I�m sorry to have wasted so much of your money only to do this. Cathrine I don�t really have much to say to you except that I love you. I�m tired of living like this and really not living at all. I don�t know where I�ll end up when this is all over, but I pray that it is better than what I experience right now. Give all my things to charity. I love you once again and good bye.


�She was very sick, but I didn�t think she would do a thing like this�, said Mrs. Madison. Down the hall, up the stairs, and into the bathroom hanging from the ceiling was a light fixture, connected to the fixture was a telephone wire that was connected around a thin, pale, dark haired girl. She swayed ever so slightly, until a man with gloves held her up and cut the wire.