• There was a little girl named Amy. She had long blonde hair and rosy cheeks to pair with a pale complexion. Her red lips looked as if they were painted on. Amy was just like you or me. She got decent grades; mostly A’s with a few B’s thrown in. She had plenty of friends and each cared for her. She walked to school with her books in hand with her favorite song blaring through her iPod. Her parents loved her immensely and her life was seemingly perfect. Everything in Amy Stewart’s life was perfect from the view of an outsider. Little did anyone know about the thin, puckered lines on her wrists.

    There was a boy named Tommy. He had short, cropped brown hair and dimples that always showed. He always wore the baggy pants and the same sweatshirt. Tommy was always the joker in the group. If someone had something bugging them, he could make them smile. Everyday he skated home on his old board just in time for to witness his parent’s next fight. Then he would sprint into his room and cower in the corner. He chanted, “Not tonight, never again, not tonight, never again,” over and over when he covered his ears to block out the screams. Only when he thought the storm was over would he exit the safety of his room. He found his mom on the floor, crying, picking up broken pieces of dishware. Red spots dotted the collected plaster. Tommy guessed he didn’t wish loud enough.

    There was a girl named Samantha. She had pin straight brown hair. Her green eyes blazed every time there was a challenge. Samantha preferred to be called Sam, but at home her opinions didn’t matter. To her parents she was Samantha, the prized trophy daughter everyone wants. Every night, unaware to her parents, she would take her neglected personality and kick it into overdrive. She would climb out of her window to an awaiting Corvette or some other car. It was always a different car every night. She would drink and smoke different things each night. Every time she woke up it was next to different man. One day everything changed when she stumbled into the bathroom only to find a little blue line in the aftermath

    There was a girl named Alison. She had pale skin and fiery auburn hair. She woke most mornings with a dull ache. She would walk to school in the same dress sometimes. She had no friends to talk to when she ate her paper bag lunch that she packed herself. Her English teacher saw the bruises on her arm but did nothing about it. She sat alone at recess on a dusty picnic table. The minutes passed slowly and the world moved around her. The dull ache soon became a throb. She walked home ever so slowly. Her mother ignored her when she saw her ten year old drag herself up the steps; she was busy taking another drag from her cigarette. Alison went to bed early only to find herself staring at the stars. She wondered if there was an escape and she came to a conclusion. She stepped out on the outer ledge of her window and closed her eyes and took a confident step forward, plunging into nothingness.

    This is the family of countless tears. Are you willing to join them?