I wake up the next morning and walk to school.  The day goes bye as if I'm on autopilot.  When the final bell rings I walk ouside and I see her by herself waiting for her friends.  I walk up to her and say, "Hey."

"Um, hi." She replies.

"My name is Kevin." Oh god, is that the best I could come up with?  After thinking about this moment all day that's what I say to her?  I tell her my name?

"I'm Claire."

"Yeah.  Hey, I was wondering if you would like to go out Friday night, like a date?" I nervously ask.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy."

"Oh well, we can go on a night that's more convenient for you if you want." I suggest.

"Sorry, I'm just not interested."  She replies and walks off when she sees one of her friends.  All I can do is look after her as she walks towards her friend.  What can I say?  I'm disappointed.

The walk home was dismal to say the least.  The recent occurrence has rendered me thoughtless.  I get to my front door and enter the house, walk up to my room, and slam the door shut in my sudden anger.

"DAMN HER!" I yell in frustration.  She was supposed to feel what I feel.  She was supposed to know we were meant for each other.  And, here I thought girls had all this intuition.  Apparently, it's every ******* girl but her!  Why?  I love her!  Why can't she see we're meant to be?  Why can't she feel this love?  I guess it's nonexistent.  A nonexistent love, but I know it exists.  She is the one who is oblivious to it all.  It's clear to me that she will never feel or even attempt to acknowledge any love between us.

As all of these different thoughts make their way through my mind I start picking up random objects in my room and hurl them at any one of my four walls.  By the time I was done with my redecorating my room looked as if a tornado had come through.  My bed was turned upside down and my lamp was in pieces along with my bedside table.  My desk was thrown to the ground along with my computer, bookshelf, and books.  I had smashed my cd's and my boom box and TV were also sent to the floor in the midst of my rage.

I then proceeded to scream in frustration and anger until I couldn't scream any longer.  I then threw myself in my closet and began to cry for all it was worth.  Evidently, it wasn't worth much because crying didn't help how I feel or change it in any way.  While I'm lying here lost in my self-pity I see a gleam of silver out of the corner of my eye.  I reach over and pick it up to find out the silver gleam came from the machete my Dad gave me for my sixteenth birthday a year ago.  I feel the blade and discover just how sharp it really is.  As I do this I think of Claire and the constant torture I was under from the love I have for her.  Now I will forever be tortured by this unrequited love.  This is not something that should be happening.  She was suppose to say she loved me, but now I know she will never love me as I love her.  I refuse to be tortured by a feeling.

I take the machete in my left hand and scream whilst cutting off all the fingers on my right hand except for my thumb.  I drop the machete on the ground and stand up facing the open wall in my closet.  I cry while drawing a huge heart in my blood on the wall.  I pick up the machete again and this time I aim for my throat spilling my blood, soul, and love onto the floor.  So long Claire I hope you have a wonderful life.