Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Hatred, the Pain, the Gunshot This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
My alarm clock buzzes and shakes me from my dream. The only place I feel safe enough to be myself. I don’t fit in well, I’m bullied constantly. You know, everybody loves a f***ing queer. Oh, no, it really is nice, though. Total strangers get to vote on whether or not I get to marry the person I love. And as a bonus, everyone loves to be in my personal business. Lucky me! I shower, dress, get my backpack, and eat breakfast. Done. With my stomach in knots, I head out the door to catch my bus.


It’s not long before I get on my bus when I hear the school bully yell, “Faggot!” Like, are you kidding me? It’s seven in the morning. F*** off. Instead I make my way to the back. In solitude, and I do my best to hold back the tears.


Upon arriving at school, everyone stares at me. Oh, right. I’m a freak show. I don’t even consider being gay as one of my defining characteristics, but people are too shallow and cliqued up to care. Coming out at 15 wasn’t my best choice, but it was necessary. If high school is supposed to be the time of my life, it sucks. So I figured I wouldn’t bother hiding myself like these assholes.


I flip off people here and there, to remind them I don’t give a s***. But it still hurts. I try to appear unmoving, like a stone, but underneath I’m a soft and creamy center. And I bruise easy as a peach.


In my first class, biology, I’m hated. Literally hated. I get called on, and picked on. I hear, “Look at this slomo try to answer. He’s f***ing stupid. Go kill yourself, you useless flamer.” Of course. Why should I live? It’s a common theme to say I’m just like everyone else. Except they’re infinitely better.


My day is rough. When I finally get to lunch, I sit alone in the back. I can barely manage down my sandwich. I go back up for a drink. Maybe some water will make me feel a little better.

I’m halfway up when I trip. Some big jock just decided to stick his leg out. Classic, oh, hey, did I tell you how much I don’t f***ing care? That’s when my hair gets wet and I realize there’s now chocolate milk running down my face. It mixes with blood and tears. I can’t take this s*** anymore. I’m running home.

When I get there, I search the basement. Ah, an old rifle. I grab bullets from another drawer. My hands goes up and down the shaft as I think about sweet release. But my poor mother and little sister…no. Too late. I prop the gun next to my head. No note. No nothing. I pull the trigger.

The last thing I heard was the gun shot. And I instantly fall asleep. And never wake up.




Join the Discussion


This article has 7 comments. Post your own!

Butterflygirl172This 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...
Dec. 12, 2013 at 10:06 am:
That's very sad I hate bullies ugh :(
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Lisas.SmileThis 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...
Apr. 14, 2013 at 2:26 pm:
I realy sympathised with your main charecter, you're piece is fantastic. It reminded me of a better written version of my artical "To My Family", which i'm proubly going to re-write again now.
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
XizzioThis 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...
Mar. 23, 2013 at 11:17 pm:
This piece was really amazing, it was really...honest I think is the word I'm looking for, honest and raw. People don't realize how people are targeted for bullying and get the constant hatred. And people do not realize that all of that bullying can lead to terrible things like suicide. Brilliant piece! Five out of Five stars
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Kaycie said...
Feb. 4, 2013 at 4:24 pm:
This is a strong essay. I feel your pain, but don't let them make you shamed.(:
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Rachel B. said...
Feb. 1, 2013 at 10:31 pm:
Wow. I really felt what the character was feeling. And because of how done with the world he was by the end, my first response wasn't to mourn the death of a main character, although that was my second response.  Fantastic.
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
EinsteinThis 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...
May 3, 2012 at 8:32 pm:

I love the way you describe how the narrator feels on the inside.  

The end also made me feel really depressed because someone in my school committed suicide a little over a month ago.  At the same time, it also means that you did your job as a writer.

 
Foxglove replied...
May 5, 2012 at 1:31 pm :
Thanks! Whenever I write, point of view is really important to me. I try my best to make the readers feel everything the main character did. Sometimes what people don't understand is how suicide is not sugar coated. It's real. The pain, the agony, the death. I'm glad you thought I did a good job and enjoyed reading :)
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Site Feedback