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 my quote, credit to
tumblr.