Suicide

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Photo ©2014 by Shearings Holidays [CC-by-2.0]
My nails digging into the palms of my hands, I can feel the tears threaten to pour down my cheeks like a dam with one too many leaks. I curl up into a ball in my chair, trying to contain my sobs that would make my sadness conspicuous.

Hold it in. Don’t let anyone hear. Don’t let anyone know you’re hurting.

I shake violently in my chair as I struggle to breathe. Gasping for air, I can’t help but let out a few sorrowful whimpers.

You’re useless. You can’t do anything right. You won’t accomplish worthwhile in life.

Tears cascade down my face, and I grit my teeth in hopes of silencing my cries.

What about tomorrow? You can kill yourself tomorrow. If you do, you’ll finally be able to hurt her.

But would she even care? Would my death even phase her? Why should I let one person dictate how I live my life? Or end it for that matter?

Because she’s telling the truth. Hey, maybe she’ll even change into a kinder person if you prove to her that her words hurt. Just kill yourself first. Then you wouldn’t ever have to deal with the bullshit again.

I plug my earphones in, trying to drown out my thoughts with deafening rock music. I lay down on the cold, hard ground with my hands behind my head.

How will the people who care about you react? You can’t just leave them in the dark like that.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just can’t go on living like this. I hope you understand.

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