You’re sitting in
your room, door locked, with a pen in your hand and a blank piece
of paper infront of you. Your hand is shaking, and the tears
begin again---for the third time in the past hour. ‘To my
family’ you write at the top of the page, but decide
it’s a bad way to begin your letter. Your suic!de letter.
You try again, start over---again and again, but you don’t
know where to begin. No one understands you; no one knows what
you’re going through, you’re alone or at least
that’s what you think. Nobody would care if you’re
alive or not, you mean nothing to nobody. It’s night, and
you slip into bed. ’Goodbye’ you whisper into the
darkness. And with that, you take your last breathe and end it
all. No body cares, right? Well you thought wrong. It’s a
Tuesday the following morning, and when it’s 7:21, your
mother comes and knocks on your door. She doesn’t know you
can’t hear her she doesn’t know you’regone. She
knocks a few more times, calling your name to open up. When there
is no reply from your side of the door, she opens it and screams.
She collapses on the ground while your dad rushes to your room.
Your siblings have already left for school. Your very weak mother
collects all the energy she’s got which is close to nothing
to walk over to your bed. She leans over your dead body, crying,
squeezing your hand, screaming. Your dad is trying to stay
strong, but the tears escape his eyes; calling 000 or 911 with
his left hand while his other one is on your mother’s back.
Your mother blames herself. All those times she had said
‘no’ to you, all those times she had screamed at you,
and sent you to your room over something stupid. Your father will
blame himself for not being there for you when you asked for
help, for being away from home at work for long. Nobody cares,
right? 8:34. There’s a knock on your classroom door
it’s the school principle. She looks more worried than
ever. She calls the teacher to the side; all the students
worried: what’s going on? The principle then later
announces about your suic!de. The popular girl that always called
you fat and ugly is now blaming herself. The kid that would
always copy your homework but treat you like crap, he’s
blaming himself. The boy that sits behind you, the one that
always threw things at you during class, he’s blaming
himself too. The teacher is blaming herself---for all those times
she’d scream at you for forgetting your homework, or not
listening in class. People are crying, screaming, shocked, in
regret of what they did. They’ll all be devastated---even
the kids you’ve never talked to before. Still nobody cares
about you, right? Your siblings get home. Your mother has to tell
them that you’re gone; forever. Your little sister, no
matter how many times she’s screamed at you, told you she
hated you and stole your stuff, always loved you, and saw you as
her hero; her role model. She now starts to blame herself; why
didn’t I do what she told me to do when she told me to? Why
did I take her stuff even when she asked me not to? This is all
my fault. Your brother gets home, the boy that never cries.
He’s now in his room; mad at himself, he caused your death.
All those times he’d played pranks on you. He’s
punching holes in his wall, turning over things; he doesn’t
know how to deal with the fact that you’re gone. Forever.
Nobody cares about you, right? Right? It has been over a month.
The door to your room has been closed all this time. Everything
is different now. Your brother has to be sent to anger management
classes, your little sister cries everyday still waiting for you
to come back. Everyday she waits for you to come back home. The
popular girls have now turned anorexic. They don’t know how
to deal with the pain that they’re feeling. Your father has
depression; your mother hasn’t slept for nights it’s
all her fault. She’s been crying and screaming every night
wishing for you to come back. The boy who would always bother you
drop 0ut of school. The boy that copied your homework now cuts.
But nobody cares about you, aren’t I right? Your mother
finally decides to go clean out your room. But she can’t do
it. She’s locked herself in your room for two days to try
to clean up your clothes, your things. But she can’t she
can’t say goodbye to you, not yet, not now. Never.
It’s your funeral. It’s a big one, everybody comes.
No one knows what to say. The beautiful girl with the big smile
is gone; you’re somewhere else. No one knows what to say,
they’re all still shocked. Everyone cries, everyone misses
you. They all wish you’d come back but you don’t, and
you won’t. Still think nobody cares about you? Think again.
Even if people don’t show it, they care about you, they
love you. If you kill yourself today or any other day you
won’t know just how much you meant to people. If you kill
yourself today, it stops your pain, but it pains all the ones who
know you for the rest of their life. Suic!de is the easy way out
- but !t is the wrong choice. Life is beautiful. Yes, it does
have its ups and downs everyone has their bad days. Sometimes
people go through tough times in their lives like you’re
probably going through now but bad times come and go. You might
not see the light at the end of the tunnel, but !t is there. No
matter how hard life gets, never give up on yourself, or on your
life. Take a minute now, and think. If you killed yourself, how
would the people that love you feel/go through? Can’t think
of anything? Well I’ll tell you: tears, tears, and more
tears. Devastation. Guilt. Pain. Broken. Regret. Miserable. If
after reading this you still feel suic!dal, there are people that
can help you. I’m here for you whenever you need me, and
I’ll be more than happy to listen to you and try to help
you feel better. There are teachers, parents, grandparents,
neighbors, adults, councilors, they’re all there for you
whenever you need them.
(C) To
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