You know, adults look down at teenagers because they are young and reckless. They are jealous because we are carefree and young. Our problems seem frivolous to them. We are taught to bring our problems to them. But do they help us?

We aren’t carefree. Children are carefree, teenagers are caring. We care a lot, we care freely, reserved, on purpose, incidentally, hurtfully, and too much.

My friends become my family. We learn everything about each other, and want to protect each other. When boys are idiots, it’s always your friends who are willing to beat him up. When they cry, you always want to be there for them. When they cut their arms open, it’s you they tell. When suicide crosses their minds, you’re the one to find out.

These are our teenage problems that can’t be brought to adults. When they are, they realize that they’re still teenagers too. Both of us worried and helpless in this world.

Teenagers are just kids dressed up like mini adults. We have no clue how to handle our lives. We want to run and hide when our friends trust us. We want to know when the bad things happen so we can help but we don’t know HOW to help. The longing to make our friends happy creates a hole in the heart that grows with each opening cut on their arms. When they take the razor blades and slice their wrists, my heart is slashed open with their skin. It hurts.

We can’t ask adults for guidance though. Where would we turn? Guidance counselors? They blow things out of proportion, cause more problems, and never help. Parents? No kid wants to have their parents know why they’re hiding their arms. They all talk to each other, worry, and nag the crap out of us. Usually they make us want to hurt ourselves more. Teachers? They’d tell the above two. So that leaves us ….. alone. All alone, with no one to help us.

So where the f*** does that leave us when that razor blade cuts too deep? When we aren’t enough to save them on our own? That leaves us alone again. All alone to take the blame. All alone to be wishing we told someone, when the world gave us no one to tell. We are alone to deal with the problem, and we are all alone to handle the loss.

At this point, I’d like to stand on a building and yell out for help. I’d like to ask the world what to do. I’m afraid that they would all pass me by or that no one would have the solution. Don’t ask me how to help, I’m in the dark. And don’t pass me by, or you might be passing the blame to me in a minute.

It hurts. It hurts now, it hurt then, and it hurts later.
It hurts and it makes them hurt themselves.
It hurts us to see them hurt themselves.
It hurts them when they do.
It hurts to worry about them.
It hurts to not be able to help.
It hurts to be me.
It hurts to want to help that badly.
It hurts when they don’t mean to.
It hurts when they mean to.
It hurts to be alone.
It hurts to have no one to turn to.
It hurts to be a teenager.
It hurts to be a teenager.
It hurts to see.
It hurts to not notice.
It hurts to watch them slip away.
It hurts to want to save them.
It hurts to see them go through it all.
It hurts to lose.
It hurts to not know what to do.
It hurts to miss you.