It's my fault.

What exactly is going on? Why is everything so twisted and fucked up? Why is it that all of the people I care for are the ones who have life clawing down their throat the most, having it slowly rip them to shreds as I sit here, mute and handicapped, but sadly not blind or deaf. I see their faces contorted in pain, the tears running down their cheeks. I hear their screams, their pleas for help, for anything to make it stop. Yet here I am, unable to offer one word of comfort, unable to take them away from this, unable to do anything but site here and stare in horror and regret and distress.

Dance is gay. I always though he was. I'm glad. If he was when we were 'dating', I wouldn't be surprised. But I'm glad he has the courage not to hide it any longer. But he is slowly losing his sanity as he tries, unsuccessfully, to meet the worlds' expectations of him. I wish I knew how to tell him that the world doesn't matter. That the ones who matter wouldn't let this affect their feelings toward him. He is dying. He no longer has any will to live. His body is shutting down, slowly attacking itself in it's quest for peace. He only eats to avoid headaches and to retain his ability to think as clearly as he can.

Brilliance might have overdosed this morning. She could be dead or in a coma right now. Future has been trying to call her house all day, but there has never been any answer. I can only hope that means that her family finally decided to get some sense and took her to the hospital. But I can't help but to think that it is partly my fault that she would do that. She lives for Future, and no matter what he says, I steal feel like I stole him somehow. They fed off each other, built each other up and tore each other down. He finally made himself into someone that she could be with, and he came back to school to see her. Not me. He wasn't planning on getting back together, but he sure as hell didn't want to make it any worse. She had rejected who he was, and I had given him only scorn. I didn't just kick him when he was down, I beat him to a bloody pulp. I still don't know how he has forgiven me for that. Somehow, I found all his weak spots and exposed them, pricking him with little thorns that hurt more than I ever thought they would. But if I had known that, would I have stopped? I doubt it. I was ignorant. I though only for myself. I think that deep down I really did like him, but it was easier just to follow Insanity's lead and look down on him. It's just that I was so much better at it then she was. I always have been good at making people feel horrible. I have a way with words, I suppose. I twist them around, encircling my victim, and then just keep twisting until every spark of life has been squeezed from that poor soul. And then he left. And I forgot him. But while he was gone, I grew up. Not completely. I'm still growing up now. But I learned how to treat others. He came back then, and he seemed happy. I was glad. I don't know why. Maybe I was glad to see that I hadn't done any permanent damage. This was my birthday, the day he came back. We exchanged e-mail addresses, and we actually started flirting. I guess we just had more courage over the internet. Then I found his blog. I learned more about him and Brilliance, and I knew, even though he didn't, that she still cared for him. She always had. But he said he wanted me, and I listened. I felt bad, but he said that what had happened was partly her fault too, and absolutely none of it was my fault. But I feel like maybe he still wanted her, I just distracted him from that. And now, because of me, she is gone. It's my fault.

And Future, just like me.

Now, I am the one falling. Watching their struggles, and falling into despair. Into the darkness, my attraction to the glamour and power of evil taking over. I watched them suffer, I continue to watch them suffer. I try in vain to reach them. Is their someone watching my struggles? Someone who is silently screaming my name, trying to pull me back towards the light? Or are the greedy hands pulling me down, laughing at my distress, the only ones who see? Who will be there to save me?

Or perhaps I have no saviour. Perhaps my failure to help my friends somehow condemns me to the same fate. Perhaps I am lost. And there is no one to blame but myself.