Suicidal

Lost inside another crash
The bones I had, turned into ash.
The world did cry the night you died
And I’m no good at suicide

Senses Fail, The Ground Folds

I stared at the small knife shining in the morning light, captivated by the way it played along the blade. I could do it, right now, slide it along my wrists, watch the steel bite my skin, the blood bubble out, end the pain, the suffering, it would be so easy. I shook myself out of that fantasy, I couldn’t do it now, I would be found too quickly; I wanted them to suffer, to worry.

You probably think I’m crazy, thinking of killing myself, or at least, I need help. It’s not that abnormal, more than half of high schoolers think about killing themselves; less than half of them actually do it. I knew I was part of the half that was going to do it.

I’m not scared of dieing. It s better than living, I don’t care if I go to hell or whatnot; hells got to be better than what I face here.

I’m not looking to die for the attention, I’d rather do it in some abandoned shack in the woods where no one would find me until they forget; and trust me, it won’t take them too long to forget.

I sighed while wrapping the knife in paper towel and slipping it into my backpack, today was the day. The day it ended. The day I died

I smiled at the thought, the thought that it would end today, that it would all stop.

All the loneliness

All the helplessness

Everything

I ended that train of thoughts, and instead threw my knapsack over my back and headed out the front door.

Life was so trivial, I pondered that thought as I walked to school, we’re born, do are thing than die. Maybe everything interesting happened when you died, there was certainly nothing interesting about living. We live without purpose, without meaning, the beauty of this world wasted on our selfishness. All anyone ever cares about is themselves, you before anyone else.

I reached my school, the crux of my loneliness. Not a single friend.

All alone

Who needed friends anyway? I thought despondently. My heart wasn’t in it, I had just given up. I no longer cared.

Almost unconsciously, I walked through the front doors of the school. A flurry of activity was all around me, while I moved among them, invisible; unattached, always different.

I walked to my locker, in one of the most out of the way halls in the whole school. Automatically, I twirled the dial on my lock, and opened the door. Well tried too, some idiot had deemed my locker worthy of a good punch, there was a huge dent and no matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

As if my life wasn’t bad enough, I now had to carry all my stuff to every class. I stared at my stuff in despair, than gave my locker one last desperate tug. It, of course, did not budge.

“Need help?” Said a voice behind me, making me jump

I whirled around to stare at the person behind me, who happened to be a guy, a very hot guy.

Now let’s get this straight, no one really talks to me, actually, no one ever talks to me, so imagine my surprise seeing a guy who was so obviously popular, talking to a nobody like me.

All I could do was stare, I probably still looked depressed, because he said, “Oh it isn’t that bad” And gave my locker door a pull.

It opened, and to my embarrassment, all my stuff fell on the floor. Bending to pick it up, I thought of ways to make this stranger go away, I was extremely uncomfortable in social situations, especially when they involved people of the popular kind.

I was hoping he would go away on his own, but instead, he bent down and helped me pick up my stuff.

“Thank you” I whispered, looking down as he handed me my stuff

“No problem” He replied “Hey, I’m new, would you mind showing me around?”

I froze, why was he asking me? “Uh…M-maybe” I cleared my throat “Maybe you’d be better suited to ask one of them” I said, gesturing to a group of cheerleaders who were giggling and pointing at him.

When he twisted his head to look at them, I turned and fled. I know, I could have taken this chance to make a friend, but I knew soon he would realize that I shouldn’t even exist; he would become popular and leave me in his dust. As it always, just like three years a go…

No, I couldn’t go through that again.

I shook my head to get rid of the unwanted memories and hefted my backpack up onto my shoulder. I didn’t even feel like going to class; sitting in the back was just another constant reminder that I didn’t belong, and if I tried to contribute, I was ignored.

Instead, I walked down the empty hall towards the backdoor. Pushing the heavy metal door open, the sound of rain met my ears. Was the sky crying for me? Did the world feel my pain and respond to it? I smiled softly at such an abstract concept. It was like saying there were angels and demons; you could believe it but you would never truly know, until you died that is.

I walked out of the shelter of the door, which quickly slammed shut behind me, and into the rain.

I revelled in the rain hitting my face; cold and indifferent, it didn’t judge me; people could take lessons from the weather; it never criticized, and did not care, as long as nothing disturbed it.

Soon I was thoroughly soaked, my black shirt clinging to me; and though not exactly see through, it wasn’t really leaving anything to the imagination. Good thing no one would ever see me. Unless they, of course, found my body, than the press would come and the preps would get a chance to be on TV. They would pretend to have been my friends, just to be on camera. The sad truth of my life, but, when the cameras were all gone, no one would care, I would be forgotten, the same dead as I was alive.

I slumped against the brick wall painted a bland beige and thought of my fate. It was now or never and there was no time like the present. I opened my backpack and reached inside, searching for the knife I knew to be in there.

My hand hit cold metal, and I carefully pulled out the knife. Now free of its paper prison Its shine was no less, even in the rain.

The full extent of what I was doing hit me, and I almost cried at what I was being forced to do. Where was the girl who had played with her friends when she was five? The one who loved ice cream and sunny days, who would do anything just to play in the park? She was gone, and I didn’t know if she’d ever be back.

Sucking in a deep breath, I pressed the knife against my wrist, until it broke through the skin, I slid it across and watched, fascinated, as the blood came free and flowed over my wrist. After the first one it was a lot easier to do my other wrist and then, dropping the knife, I lay back down and closed my eyes.

And let the darkness take me

Hgfhfghfjdhhg

He stared down at the girl lying at his feet

The girl with the blackest hair and the saddest blue eyes.

Now he knew why she was sad

Something drew her to him

He shook his head

He should leave

Should…

Oh Snap, another story, I personally like this one better than my first, I’m drawing on mine and my friends angst here, but I have never tried to kill myself, cause I’m too happy to ;P