Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

What Lead To My Demise

I felt my throat start to tighten. My eyes burned as I tried to hold back the tears. Why had god put me through this? Why hadn't he answered my prayers? Why is he making me suffer through this pain? Couldn't he make the memories go away? I managed to choke out the words "God, please! Please God why are you putting me through this?" The tears fell from my eyes. They came out like a flooded dam. My breathing came less and less frequently. I tensed my entire body and let all the sorrow, regret, and remorse out. "Why can't I just forget him? Why do I love him like I do? It's not fair!" It had been months since the beginning of my heartache. He shouldn't  be in my thoughts anymore. He shouldn't have haunted my dreams still. I shouldn't have remembered every detail…I shouldn't have still loved him. He was much happier without me…did I hold him back from happiness? Was it my fault he was always depressed? Why couldn't I have helped him to be happy again? Why did I want him still? There were so many questions left unanswered.  All he had done was toy with my emotions, break my heart, and caused me to become suicidal. I cut daily and often thought of ending my life. I planned how I would do it… But never did. I was dead already…on the inside. I wanted to die on the outside as well but I couldn't give up my life…She wouldn't be able to handle it. My best friend and I had promised each other we would stay alive for each other. She was the Batman to my Robin. Without her...my life would have ended a lot sooner. We kept each other alive and well. But all I could think about was suicide. I planned it on so many occasions. I would think to myself…Would anyone miss me if I ran away? Would anyone look for me? How long would they search until they gave up? Would they go through my stuff to see if I had hidden a secret message as to my whereabouts? I was struggling in silence because I was too weak to ask for help. Now that I think about it…I wasn't weak. I was just too scared. People had judged me since the day I was born…I was an outcast with a few "friends" and I was afraid if I asked the few friends for help…I would only be a burden. I refused to go to a school counselor because what good would that have done me? They'd tell my parents and they would have flipped out. My mother was already over protective and my father…he was just more of a sperm donor that paid child support. He was never there for me. He was emotionally distant and when he tried to make small talk it was awkward. I didn't look anything like him (thank god!) And I was a clone of my mother. During the last few years everyone told me I looked like her and that made me so upset. No matter what I did, how I dressed, how I styled my hair, or how I did my makeup EVERYONE told me "Oh you are just like your mother!" And I hated that. I wanted to be my own person but no matter what I was always my mother. I slowly started to hate my appearance more and more. I started dressing in dark clothing and no one noticed that I started to go into a deep depression after the breakup. They didn't ask why my mascara was smeared down my face, they didn't ask what was wrong, they didn't check my wrists or my shoulders or my legs…no one bothered to make sure I was okay. I silently cried myself to sleep each night. No sounds came from me during the day. I ate when I was told and spoke when I was spoken to. I became somewhat like an obedient dog. Mother assumed I was just trying to do better but that wasn't the reason at all. I was slowly falling apart on the inside because of a boy. A boy who once held my heart so carefully. He shattered it and didn't bother to talk to me afterwords. He acted like I didn't exist. He didn't give me a single glance in the hallways, he didn't text me, he didn't talk to me….nothing. He acted like we had never been in love. Like all of our dates, all of the kisses, cuddles, movies, hugs, songs…like they never happened. Like he never meant any of the I love you’s. I think that's what hurt the most. The fact that he simply cut off all contact with me. He went on with his life as happy as could be while I went into a depression that eventually killed me. I remember my death as though it were yesterday. I don't know how long I have been dead…but I still remember every detail. I had become so depressed that week that nothing could make me smile. I was home alone so I cried and blared my music. How the neighbors didn't hear I will never know. I got my razor out from my back pocket and began carving my fragile porcelain skin. I had never cut any shapes but I did that day. On my left arm I sliced "I love you" and on my right arm I slit "I hate you" and above my left breast I cut a crude broken heart. Blood began pouring from my skin. The pain felt so amazing. I bit my lip and tasted blood. I began writing on the walls with my own blood. This was my suicide note. I wrote on all four walls of my tiny bedroom. I started with the wall closest to my bed. It was also the largest. It read:
"To the boy who broke my heart-
I will always love you. No matter how many painful memories there are all I can seem to think of are the good ones. I know you never meant to hurt me like this… but you did. I don't wan't you to blame yourself for this because it wasn't just you. It was everyone who hurt me. You just happened to sting the most. I want you to know that I love you. I never stopped. You were my best friend and when you stopped talking to me… I felt like I had lost a huge part of my life. My depression became worse and worse until…well until this happened. I died loving you and I plan to love you just as much in the afterlife. You can't be hurt when you're dead…and I'm just tired of being hurt."
I hung up every picture of him and I that I had on the wall and stepped back to look at the wall. The pictures brought back all the painful memories that had lead to this moment. The picture we took at the fair, the picture of us at the dance…both years. The picture of us on our first date, the picture of our kiss on our three month anniversary. We both looked so happy in all the pictures. I thought to myself…where did I go wrong? What had I done to deserve this heartache?
I began writing on the next wall:
"To my Batman-
Robin lush yew! " this was something we told each other often. "I'm so sorry that I broke my promise to stay strong. But I want you to keep living for me. Okay? Pinky promise me you'll do that for me. This is the last thing I ask of you…Just stay alive for me. Thank you so much for always being there for me. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I don't know what I would have done without you darling. I wish it wouldn't have come to this but everyone has gotten to me. It was all to much and I couldn't think of anything else to do and it was all starting to be too much to bear. Thank you for being the best friend, sister, and superhero to me. You were the best friend a girl could ever ask for and I love you." I hung up pictures of the two of us on that wall and looked down. I was covered in blood and I was starting to get light headed. I quickly wrote on the third wall.
"To my mommy-
I LOVE YOU. No matter what you can't give up. You have to stay strong for Bubby. He's going to need you now more than ever. Tell my baby sister that I'm so sorry I never got to get to know her," my younger sister was put up for adoption when she was born because we couldn't afford to feed three kids and an adult. A family member adopted her and I hadn't seen her since she was four years old. Seven years had passed since then and I had never gotten to know her very well. "Thank you so much for being the best mom in the world. I know we had our ups and downs but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. We shared a bond that was unbreakable and I'm so sorry I'm putting you through this mommy. I just can't handle living anymore. It hurts too much. But just know I'll be watching over you. I don't want you slipping into any depression and if you do…just remember this. Your baby girl is happy now! I'm not suffering anymore and I can finally sing with Pappy again!" I hung up several pictures and moved on to the fourth wall. I wrote a simple paragraph:
"To those who thought they cared…you didn't! Otherwise I wouldn't be hanging from the middle of this room like I am! You should have noticed when I started acting strange. No one noticed. No one cared enough to notice."
I began blacking out. I needed to hurry up and get this over with. I changed into my Pierce The Veil t-shirt. It was one that was from King For A Day. They were my favorite band and they had gotten me through so much. I wish I would have wrote them a letter thanking them. I put on my favorite jeans and boots. I was covered in blood so I quickly cleaned myself up. I then grabbed a chair and a belt. I tied the belt to my ceiling and stood atop the chair. "This is it." I whispered softly. I turned on the song In The Arms Of The Angel and stood on the chair. I slowly wrapped the cold leather belt around my neck. It felt right. It felt reassuring to know that everything would be better soon. I closed my eyes and managed to form a smile. I pushed the chair out from underneath myself and then I hung in peace. Nothing could hurt me now. I could finally be what I had always longed to be. Happy.



Join the Discussion


This article has 1 comment. Post your own!

One_winged_AngelThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
today at 10:35 am:
This is kind of a personal experience. I became very depressed on a gloomy Friday afternoon and began writing. About an hour later I had this finished. My eyes were puffy and I wanted to follow through with what I had written. At the exact moment the razor blade touched my skin my best friend texted me. I realized I couldn't give up. I had to be strong for her. Odds are if I die...she will too. I don't want her to have to bury her best friend. I'm alive because of her...I love her wi... (more »)
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Site Feedback