----------A WARNING----------

For anyone who cares enough to read this, this is a story told in second person pint of view that is written to let you envision the after effects and consequences of suicide. This story mirrors how I feel to some extent, and you may feel the same or completely disagree with me or my story, it is okay. This story may be triggering for some readers, so if you are sensitive to any type of depression/suicidal/self-harming content, please do not read this.

 

It was only Tuesday and you had already had enough. You wanted it all to be over and you couldn't deal with the pain anymore. All those girls, they were just so mean to you. They always excluded you, not allowing you to feel accepted. They had spread rumors about you and told your friends not to be your friend, to join them instead. You wanted to leave school already, but you still had 10 minutes until the bus was ready to take you home. Then, you heard it. The bus screeched to a stop, opening the doors for the kids to pile in, fighting for the seat they wanted. You climbed in too and sat in the front, "where only the losers sit". Your house wasn't far from the school, but too far to walk, so the bus arrived quickly. When the bus stopped in front of your house, you got out. The bus drove away as you walked up your sidewalk, to your front porch. Then you faintly heard the kids next door laughing. You turned around and they were pointing at you and laughing. Great, you thought, more kids making fun of me is just what I need. You felt annoyed and sad. Then you got your key out, unlocked the door, and went into your house. Your parents were still at work and your sister was still at school. You started walking to the kitchen, but passed a mirror and stopped at it. Maybe they are right, maybe I am fat. The thought ran through your head and you changed your mind about that snack you wanted. Then you walked up the stairs to your room. There was a note on your door. "Clean your room you unappreciative brat" it read. Your mom had written it just for you. You walked in your room and lied on your bed. That was when your phone started beeping over and over and over again until you picked it up. You looked at it. There were over 20 notifications of your recent Instagram post. You clicked on one. "Cutie!!" your old friend had commented on your recent selfie. Then the next, "I wish I was as pretty as you #hottie" your little sister's friend commented. After reading those you felt happy and wanted more compliments to make you feel even greater. You kept scrolling. You got to the next one, "Ew gross. Stop polluting the internet with your ugliness". It was posted by the mean girl at your school. Even though there were two positive comments and only one negative, you went from happy to crying in a split second. Why would she say that? Am I really that ugly? You questioned yourself. You kept reading the comments though, thinking maybe there would be someone who stood up for you. The next on read "lol is that your attempt at being cute? #fail". Yet again, a mean one. You were crying so hard. You read the next one. "Do the world a favor and kill yourself. Slit your wrists or drink bleach or something, just get rid of yourself." You had cried so much your eyes were swollen. These kids were so mean, but why. "Why me?" you said aloud. "Why does everyone hate me? What is wrong with me?" You questioned yourself. Everyone was always so mean to you. They never invited you to go on trips with them and always rubbed it in your face that you couldn't go. They wouldn't sit with you at lunch, they wouldn't share their books with you, they wouldn't even acknowledge you were there unless they were being mean. There was the one mean girl, and her army of minions and they terrorized you. You had enough. You just couldn't take it anymore. You lied on your bed, thinking of everything that had happened that day. You think of sitting at lunch alone, the names you were called, the fights with your best friend and mom, and the comments you read on your social media. You think of how hard to try, to fit in, to be happy. You ask yourself what is wrong with you. You think of how you smile everyday, hiding the pain, but then you realize, a fake smile can only get you so far. You think about how all those girls would feel if you actually did die, and you wonder what the looks on their faces would be. You convince yourself that they would be happy and that you aren't worth their time. You think about how that's all they want anyway. You want to try it, see how they feel. You crack. You started crying as hard as possible, thinking of everything they had done. You think about how if you don't act on this now, you never will. You decided to take the shortcut out. You chose pills because you knew you wouldn't be able to physically do something painful, and you wanted to go peacefully. You took your dad's pain medication into your room with a bottle of water. You put them on your desk and took out a notepad and a pen. You didn't have much time, but you jotted out a note to your parents and sister, "Hello family. I am sorry about this whole thing. I know you tried to help at times, but there was nothing you could do. No one loves me. No one cares. I know you tried to love me, and I want you to know this isn't your fault," You put it on your desk and take the pills and water. You pour the pills into your hand and take them all. Then you lie on your bed, crying harder than ever. Your stomach starts aching and you start feeling dizzy, then sleepy. Then it hits you, you are going to be that kid. The one who kills themselves "over a stupid argument", the "attention seeker. You question whether this will help anything or not, but it is too late to turn back now. You think about your family then pass out. You were unconscious for a few minutes before your heard stopped beating. That was it. You were gone, and there was no turning back. Your pain was over and your issues were solved. Then the front door opened. It was your family. "Honey we're home." they called out. They yelled it a few times before starting to worry. Your dad came jogging up the stairs and opened your door. His face turned pale and he immediately started crying. He called for your mom and your mother and sister came into your room. Your mom screamed and started crying so, so hard. She saw her precious baby lying on the ground, dead. You hit her so hard, she fell on her knees, praying to God this was a joke. Her baby couldn't have died, but you did. Your dad calls 911 and your sister, too young to understand, asks what's wrong. Your school and friends are notified, your school and town in shock. That sweet little neighborhood girl just killed herself. Everyone was quiet for days. Everyone cried. That teacher that gave you the bad grade blamed herself, thinking that if she had given you a better grade, you wouldn't have had such a rough day. She quit teaching. Your best friend thought it was her fault too, because of that fight you two had. She started drinking and stopped caring about making friends, because her best friend in the whole wide world had killed herself. That mean girl who made your life hell, she knew she had played a huge role in your depression and death. She killed herself too, thinking if she killed you, she deserved to die as well. Then there were your parents. The people who raised you and loved you. They couldn't get the image of your dead body out of their minds. Your mom would wake up from nightmares every single night, nightmares of discovering your body over and over again. Your mom and dad blame themselves and each other and grow further and further apart. Your family is breaking, leaving your sister all alone. Your Instagram photo was covered in comments of apologies and regrets. The issue with that was, you weren't there to see it, to see all the people that care about you. It's funny when you're dead, how people start listening. If only all those mean people would have given you a chance in the beginning. Your little sister grew up wishing you were there for her to talk to, wishing she still had a big sister to hold her. So many people loved you, and the worst part is that they are only showing it now that you are gone. You actually had people who loved you, and now you can't see it.

The point of this is to tell you that suicide is most definitely not the answer to anything. There are so many amazing opportunities and things ahead of you, and you can't experience those things if you are gone. There are so many people who love you and care about you, and killing yourself would devastate those people. If times get hard, think about how everyone would actually feel, despite what you think now. Suicide is a sad alternative that one should not indulge in.

 

This blog entry was inspired by Jack Baran, otherwise known as thatsojack on YouTube. He created a video in April of 2012. The video he uploaded was an inspirational video titled "It Gets Better". He made this video to "help prevent people from feeling like suicide is their way out" (in his own words). Though my story is not identical to his, we share the same theme and other similar aspects, so he deserves some credit for inspiring me. The link to his video is https://youtu.be/9doKlyqDM9g