She was a lonely girl. Her mother didn’t care about her or anyone else for that matter.She was a drug addict and a whore. With what the girl had been through she had started not to care about much in her life.
She didn’t care about her dad. He wasn’t really in the picture. She had lots of friends, but few who actually care about her and her feelings. All they cared about was their image.
Dew to these facts she was diagnosed as a manic depressent. She became a cutter at a young age but never really had the courage to actually kill herself, at least not yet. Her two younger bothers were beautiful, they loved everyone. Though one was spoiled and the other was just like her she loved with out thought.
You couldn’t say she was unpopular, because she had lots of friends and had, had many boyfriends. She was good at school and had matured fast. Still death wanted her. She became possesed with a demon who told her death is the only way out of here, “you must die.”
One day the manic set in, she was in a mood where anything would set her off and make her go into a psycotic episode. She had been taken off her anti-depressents shortly before this. Everyone had thought she was doing fine, at least that’s how she made it appear on the outside. She never told how she felt for fear that someone could get in and hurt her like everyone else. But someone had gotten in but this time it was worse ‘cuz this was true love and it killed her to hurt him or get hurt by him.
She went home after school that day and thought about all the different ways to die, this time was not another fake. She pondered on the thought. Suffication, drowning, hanging, smuthering, strangling,or choking they all would work. With a knife or sharp object; sliting her throught, wrist, or any other major blood vessel or artary, or stabbing herself. Shooting herself in the heart or head. Throwing herself down a flight of stairs. Electricution. Drug overdose. Getting hit by a car. Snapping her neck. Getting in fight with someone who would and could kill her. Burning herself. Taking a toxic chemical. Inhaling toxic items. Driving off a bridge. She made this list carefully, knowing what she would and wouldn’t do to herself.
The details in the list kept getting more greusome. Thoughts she didn’t even know she had in her came out and onto the paper. As she read the paper she thought of more and more ideas, till one of her brothers walked in and started reading. She hissed at him to get out ,but he kept reading. As if the thought of his sister actually writing this massicer of disgust was to much for a young mind of his own to bare.
She’d planned it, the next day she would go to school as if nothing was wrong and then she would come home and before anyone got home she would give in to the feeling of hatered towards herself and commit the thought that the demon wanted to be true.
Everything went to plan, no one suspected a thing. She went home after school and got into the house. She turned on her favorite depressing song. She had desided on slitting her wrist for a few reasons. It would be easy to open, it was her favorite place to cut, and she knew it would be fast, slow, painless, and painful.
She went to find the sharpest knife in her house. when she finally decided which was sharper she only had half an hour. Just as she was about to start the guy called. She answered in fear it would be her mom. They started their daily rutine of fighting and she hung up. He kept calling and calling but she wouldn’t answer. Eventually he got fed up and decided to call back later.
One cut after another and another. All the way down her arm, deeper and deeper. The blood trickled in little pools down her arm. As she cried thoughts of her brothers went through her head. The light had gotten dimmer and dimmer until it was black as ebony. All she heard was the song, “I will make it go away ,can’t be here no more. Seems this is the only way. I will soon be gone, these feelings will be gone. Now i see the times they change. Leaving doesn’t seem so strange. I am hoping I can find where to leave my head behind. All the shit I seem to take, all alone I seem to break. I have lived the best I can. Does this make me not a man?”
She couldn’t feel. All of the sudden she heard a scream but it wasn’t female it was a boyish scream. A familiar little voice said, “Sissy, Sissy wake up!” Then she heard a voice, ” Wake up! Wake up! Please Wake up!” Someone seemed to be sobbing. A group of people were sobbing, some were quiet and soft others were horrofied and frantic.
The last thought was maybe people do care but never when you need them to. Sometimes people took her for granted. She just hoped that life would be better without her, so that she didn’t do it for nothing.