High school was not a good time.

Freshman year saw my development of something you could have called anorexia. I refused to eat at lunch, and if it wasn't for Ben at lunch, forcing me to eat a granola bar every day that he packed just for me, I would have withered away. I hated myself. I threw up every morning, I cried in bathrooms, and I saw you.

I saw you when you would sit and stare at me as I lost it, as I shook in my seat. You would glance away if I looked your way, too scared to ask me if I was OK. Or worse, you would whisper to your friends about the freak who couldn't sit still. As time passed, more and more of me slipped away and you continued to stare. I was dying, and you said nothing.

Sophomore year is the year I began cutting myself.

It wasn't unnoticeable. I saw you stare at me in class when my sleeve would slip down. You would look away when I noticed and quickly pulled my sweatshirt around my wrist. You talked on your Twitter about your struggle with depression yourself and how anyone could talk to you if you needed it, yet you refused to start a conversation with me when you noticed.

You sat and watched while I practically screamed for help, begging for anyone to get me out of my head long enough to breathe fresh air before the anxiety suffocated me, taking the last fight I had inside of me. You saw the text messages that I sent about me relapsing and cutting, yet you never once asked me to talk or if I needed help. You had no problem talking to my parents about anything else.

You all saw the signs, yet you never once asked. I was known to be the nicest person in our grade, yet no one cared when I needed something. I was dying, and you said nothing.

Junior year I lost my best friend's dad and I lost her too.

I cut more, I cried daily, I was so exhausted that I was sleeping in my classes that I loved. The anxiety kept me up till 3 in the morning, every night. I didn't eat, I worked out too much, and I thought myself as worthless. You watched me as I struggled to live. You watched me, yet you never once asked.

My other half was ripped from me, the girl that I did everything with. I didn't know how to live without her, I didn't know life without her in it. I ran around like a chicken without a head for months, begging for someone to help me fill the gaping hole in my heart.

The medication wasn't helping like it was supposed to. My therapist was worried. She pointed out to me that I thought myself as worthless, I agreed.

She left. She took a part of me with her.

I was dying, and you said nothing.

Senior year, I wasn't around much. No one witnessed me falling apart because I held it together at school. My best friend was still gone. My heart was still ripped to shreds. I stopped cutting, I started eating. The medication finally started working. Yet again you saw the signs. They were so obvious. You said nothing. I was dying, and you said nothing.

And yet, here we are.

I have to stop myself from laughing until I cry when you post on your social media accounts about how you would never be so blind like those in "13 Reasons Why," how you would be able to spot someone in need and talk to them, help them.

You're a fucking liar.

You didn't care about us. You never spotted us. You preach a lifestyle that you claim you live, yet when called into action, you run away screaming. You never talked. You never helped us. I needed help, I showed you I needed help, and you laughed me out the door.

You are despicable.

I was the one that always cared for everyone around me, but only few ever returned that. You ignored us who were hurting because we inconvenienced you. Everyone likes to think they'll be a hero until it's actually asked of them.

You're just as bad as those who made fun of us.

I'm alive today, no thanks to you.

I was dying, and you said nothing.