rach*
Status:
fml
Joined: November 3, 2014
Last Seen: 9 years
Birthday: December 24
user id: 387684
Gender: F
Joined: November 3, 2014
Last Seen: 9 years
Birthday: December 24
user id: 387684
Gender: F
64
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34 Followers
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Flair
131 Favorites
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34 Followers
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merry christmas, i could care less
rachel, fifteen//and all i want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me before you bury yourself alive
rachel, fifteen//and all i want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me before you bury yourself alive
Quotes by rach*
“It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You
can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you
spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t
left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow.
Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true
depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more
alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not
sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at
living than you are.
A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.
Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.
You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.
You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.
Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.
Stop thinking that everyone is having more s*x than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.
I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.
You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of sh*t doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it. Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?
We shall see.”
A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.
Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.
You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.
You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.
Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.
Stop thinking that everyone is having more s*x than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.
I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.
You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of sh*t doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it. Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?
We shall see.”
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.
Nobody 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’re gone. 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 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 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, and everyone has their bad days. Sometimes people go through tough times in their lives, alike what you're 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 and 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. There are teachers, parents, grandparents, neighbors, adults, councilors - they’re all there for you whenever you need them.
Nobody 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’re gone. 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 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 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, and everyone has their bad days. Sometimes people go through tough times in their lives, alike what you're 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 and 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. There are teachers, parents, grandparents, neighbors, adults, councilors - they’re all there for you whenever you need them.