2 His suicide

That day you could see my scars and the blood through my cotton tee. I couldn't take it anymore. The constant pain I have in my chest. The feeling that no one care always creeping into my thoughts. Always wanting to leave this world behind and never look back. I have no friends my family all hates me I have no one.

I was a normal kid at one point in my life but for some reason one day that change. I found out that I had depression. I was always on my meditation and it usually worked, but on that day I had somehow built up an immunity to the drugs.

My depression was acting worse then usual, I just wanted to die.

I was in math class and decided to use the restroom, and I ended up balling my eyes out in the stall. One of the popular mean kids walked in. I could smell the smoky ash of cigarettes coming off of him, my nose hairs were burning. I had to get away from the smell so I was walking out when he came up to me and told me to kill my self. He said I was a good for nothing little shit and no one would miss me.

I went back to class after that feeling like shit. When I went back I saw my desk covered in awful things people thought about me. They were calling me a slut, bitch, sloppy seconds, telling me to kill my self.

I really wanted to kill my self I just couldn't take this pain anymore. I set a date I was go to kill my self on January 3. When I set that date I felt the stress and tension leave my shoulders.

I couldn't wait to leave this shitty place and never look back.

It was January 2 now the day before I kill myself. I was feeling more shitty then ever. I wanted to kill myself right then and there but something stopped me. I don't know what it was but I just couldn't do it. Instead I continue to make the art i usually do on my legs and arms with the sharp razor with the ink of my own blood.

You would think that cutting yourself would hurt but it really doesn't. I just have probably gotten used to the pain I have been doing this for a really long time.

People always wonder why people cut myself they wonder why would you do that to your own body. I have my own reasons for cutting myself, like how you have your own reasons for spending hours on your phone or going to the mall. I do it because I can't handle the pain of the things people say and do. It makes me go insane. I cut because i can control that pain unlike the pain you guys have cost me. It makes me feel at ease.

It's finally January 3, and I have finally finished the letter I have been writing to the people who will find my limp dead corpse. I was so ready to just leave. I got to the bathroom and fill up the tub til it's about to over flow. I grab my sharp slightly rusted blood stained razor. I slowly get into the bath trying not to spill any of the water that the tub holds. I sit down look at the water then look at the razor.

I am thinking of wether I should go through with this or not. But I had planned this out for so long I was just ready to leave. I pick up my razor that I had set down next to the bath. I play around with it for a second. Then I take the full side of the razor between my finger tips and the sharp side towards my wrist. I put my wrist against the razor and then I push in and slide making sure that it's deep enough so I bleed out. I do that a couple more times on both of my wrist and I put my arms in the water.

It was done I was going to finally leave. I could feel my eyes getting heavy. I realized I made a mistake but I can't take this one back. When you are suicidal you don't think rational and just this that you want to get out. You don't think about how you may regret it. I regret my choice but it's too late.

My time is almost over on this earth. I can't really keep my eyes open.

Outside the apartment you hear loud sirens. The police and medical care team burst through the doors only to be greeted by blood water pouring out of the bathroom. And a dead corpse of a 18 year old man hanging over the tub.