I sit alone in the darkened graveyard, and talk to myself. I speak as if someone were there. At night the graveyard here was beutiful, the moon light shining on the grave stone make them bright enough so you can barely read the names. One gravestone read:

Randy Martin
1989-2006
Loving son and brother

Wow? He was only nineteen years old. I wonder how he died. These days, anything could've killed him; a disease, a person, or even an animal. I know he didn't die of old age, or maybe he did. His body may not have been able to handle living any longer. Is that possible?
I sit there on a gravestone that is facing Randy's gravestone. I say to myself,
"I've always wondered what it's like to die. Is it fun or is it boring or scary? I don't know. I bet Mr. Martin would know. I wish I knew, my life sucks. It's just a great big mistake, I'm not meant to live, and if I am, then what did I do to deserve this? I've never hurt anyone purposely. I always apoligize, and I've never put pain upon myself. Well I didn't before. I do now to ease the pain, to take my mind off of the things at home and school."

At home my mother is sick with cancer. My dad hits me, and my sister killed herself.

At school, people treat me like I'm an alien, like I don't belong there. My best friend betrayed me because his girlfriend didn't like me. Now I have no one to turn to.

The graveyard is my favorite place to go when I need to think. To be honest it's the only place I can go and not feel alone. It's weird, I know, but it's the only place I cna go and no one is yelling at me.

The first night, I came to the graveyard I was 13 years old, I'm 16 now I was late getting home from hockey practice. Yes, back then I played sports. I wasn't actually at hockey practice. I should've told you this before, but I'm gay. I had a boyfriend and we were hanging out. He moved the next day. I didn't even know he was moving. I came home late that night and when I walked throught he door of my trailor my dad punched me. I had fallen and he walked out and stood over me, he looked down at me and he said,
"Where have you been? You are late!"
"Hockey!"
"Yeah, right." he said, He reached down and grabbed my shirt and pulled me up. Then he said,
"I'm not going to fall for your lies!"
He pushed me into the edge of the trailor door way. I pushed him away from me and I ran. He chased after a little bit, but I was too fast. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. That's when I stopped at the graveyard. I sat down on a stone and cried for hours, I didn't go home until 2:00am.

I would ask myself "why does he hit me?". I could never answer. There was no reason for him to do that. He's hit me since I was five, no one has realized it. Except my sister, he would do the same to her and more. I've been alone since my sister died. I could talk to her about anything. She listened and helped. She was the first person that knew that I am gay. The graveyard was the place I went the day I found my sister, in the living room, on the couhc, blood flowing from her wrist onto her clothing and the couch. The razor blade she used was in her hand. I grabbed it and threw it across the room I picked up the phone and called 911. I didn't go to the hospital with her, instead I went to, wouldn't you know it, the graveyard. I found a tree and sat down on the ground, next to it and I rocked back and forth and said aloud,
"She's fine, she has to be, I can't keep going on without her." I started crying, "please God let her be okay."
She was not okay. Ever since then I haven't beleived in God. I figured if there is a God then he wouldn't have made my life so miserable. Ever since that night, I never let anyone know the real me... or at least until now... The reason my ex-boyfriend and I broke up was because I couldn't let him "in". I was afraid that I'd get hurt. So he didn't let me know he was moving and he left without telling me.I met someone recently, I've been letting him "in" one day at a time. We've been together for one year and he still doesn't know about my nightly visits to the graveyard. Some nights at the graveyard I would walk around, this is when it really became my favorite spot. I hadn't realized how big the graveyard really was. I walked through the trees and I found another side of the graveyard. It amazed me I never knew the graveyard was so big. That night I stayed there until 4:00am exploring. I checked out crypts and dark spots. The whole time I thought of demons living there... were they real? I know I'm crazy. I think of things to make my life interesting. As if it's not interesting enough...

On October 13, 2006, or also known as Friday the 13th, I came home and found my mom in the bathroom tub, underwater, she had either, accidentally drowned or done it to herself purposely, lately she's been really depressed and she didn't act like she wanted to go on. So this could, make sense, if it didn't hurt me so much. I realized that I would be alone with my dad. So I just snapped. I packed a bag of cloths and I went back to the graveyard and I went through the patch of trees and found a crypt and I stayed there. I went three days without food. I guess that was the important thing I'd forgotten, I couldn't go back. On the fourth day, the missing persons department in the police force found me... they searched the whole town... they were going to take me back to my dad, but I begged them not to. I told them what he does to me. For two weeks I stayed in foster care until they finished investigating my dad. They finally put him in jail. I got put wiht a family who cares for me and they know that I'm gay and they accept it. Every night I still sneak out and, yes I do go to the graveyard, but this time Alex, my boyfriend, meets me there. I do not get depressed any more unless I think about my mom or my sister. I hate my dad. I finally let Alex in and I've never been happier in my whole life.