PLEASE
READ
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
suicide 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 suicide. 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
dropped out 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. Suicide is the easy
way out - but it’s 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
it’s 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 suicidal,
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.
(not
mine, quote credit to
ReasonsToSmile).