Hmmmm. What to write this time. This time, I'm not going to say that you could have stopped me. Because, truth is, you couldn't have. My mind is made. Things won't get better, I've realized. Nothing ever gets better when you're like me. A screw up. A drunk. A druggie. A goner. Nothing ever gets better. So now, let's get this done. Again.
Dear family- This time, don't blame yourself. It was all my fault. It's always been my fault. You guys have made that very clear. And I've finally accepted it. It's always my fault. Everything. But know that this time, this really wasmy fault. I caused this. Because I caused you guys to treat me like this, right? I caused the abuse. I caused the hate. I caused the diseases. I caused it all. So this is my fault. Really. It's okay. I know you'll be better off when I'm gone. I'll be better off when I'm gone. We'll all be better off.
Dear mommy- I don't know what to say here, mommy. You've gotten worse. The pills. The pills, mommy. You have a family. You have a family, mommy. You don't need the pills. I know you're sick. And believe me when I say I am so, so, so sorry. But I promise. Things will get better. Things will become okay again, mommy. Only a short time until you're in God's hands, ma. Won't that be great? You'll be with God, mommy. No more pain. No more suffering. It's gonna be okay. I promise. Only a few months left, mommy. Then it's over. Look. I forgive you for everything. I know you don't remember me. And I know you don't love me. But I remember you. And I love you. I remember when I was little, mommy. I remember you loving me. I remember you holding me when I was sick. I remember your face as you saw me opening my new Barbie doll. I remember your smile. I remember, mommy. And it's okay that you don't. The disease ate away at your memory. I understand how that feels. Get better, mommy. This isn't your fault. It couldn't be. And I'm sorry for giving you your disease. I didn't mean to, mommy. I was 7. I don't know how I gave it to you. It's not a disease that someone can simply give to someone, but I guess I did. And I'm so incredibly sorry. I'll rest well, mommy. You will, too. We'll be okay. I love you.
Dear daddy- Do you remember when I was little? Do you remember teaching me how to ride a bike? Do you remember finally letting go, and me doing it by myself? I do, daddy. And it seems like we went through that again. Two years ago. I wasn't ready for you to let go, daddy. I needed you to hold on. I'm not ready to do it by myself. The world is a scary place, daddy. And I'm facing it alone. All of the worlds problems by myself. I wish you had never let go, daddy. I felt so much safer when you were running behind me, clapping, helping me. Why did you let go of me, daddy? I promise I didn't give mommy that disease. But it is my fault she has it. It's always my fault, daddy. I'm sorry I ruined your life, daddy. And I'm sorry you're losing mommy. You're losing me, too. Not that that matters. I did something that ruined your life, so you won't talk to me. But it's okay, daddy. I forgive you. You didn't mean it. You don't mean it. You say that at 7, I took your wife. So now, at 13, I take my life. I hope that makes up for your loss, daddy. I love you. I'm sorry.
Dear older sister- It's funny, really. How much I look up to you. When I was little, I thought you were perfect. You were always so nice, Kay. Always. You would play with me, you would include me, you would love me. I don't know what went wrong. Do you remember loving me? Or do you only remember ignoring me? You deleted all my messages. You deleted all my texts. You deleted all of my cries for help. You saw me, sister. You saw the things these people do to me. But it's my fault. I deserve it. I understand why you would ignore me, though. I mean... look at me. I'm a fuck up. Emo. Nothing but a screwed up child. It's okay. That's how you see me, that's how I see myself. It's okay. I forgive you. I just wished that you and I could become close again before I gave in to depression, Kayla. But it's okay. I understand how busy you are with college and what not. Just know that this was my fault. All of it. So don't blame yourself, okay? I don't think my death will make you sad, but I almost hope it will. In a way. Just so that you know how much you hurt me. But this is still my fault. It's always been my fault. And I'm sorry. I loved you so much, Kayla. Never forget that.
Dear older brother- I don't know what to say here, either. Things between you and I have been... bad. I wish things were like they were when we were little. Things like wearing matching pajamas, playing Lego's, and watching Thomas the Tank Engine together. I remember you being so... little. You were 7, I was 4. You were tiny. But now... 10 years later, you're big. And you scare me. You can overpower me. You do overpower me. As I sit there, crying, bruised and bleeding, Matthew, I remember those times. Those times when you weren't abusive. Those times we were best friends. I sit there wondering where I went wrong. What I did to cause this. Because I did cause this. I caused everything. But it's okay, Matt. It's alright. I understand. It's in your nature to hurt me. You need some way to vent. And if hitting me helps, then that's alright. I hope you'll find some way to vent after I'm gone. Just promise me one thing. Never, and I mean never, hurt my little girl. Never. I love you.
Dear little sister- When I'm gone, I don't want you to remember the bad side of me. The side that was mean to you. The side that would yell at you and hurt you. The side that was sometimes abusive. I want you to remember the good side of me. The side that loved you, the side that held you, the side that played mommy, daddy, brother, and sister. Remember the time that I took you to the park and we played and played until it got dark and started raining? Do you remember how you and I ran to get under the play structure? Do you remember praying to God, thanking Him for me, the rain, and for life? Remember those times. I remember that perfectly, Amber. You were 5. You were so cute. You still are, but right then, in the dark in the rain, praying to God. Praying to Him, coming to Him with no problems, only coming to Him to thank Him. Remember times like that one. Times where we were both happy. Times where we forgot how mean mommy was, and how scary brother was. Times where you and I could be together, happy, and where we could truly laugh. Remember those times. I'm so sorry, baby, for leaving you. I know that you need me. You need me still. You're only 9. But you're a big girl, sweetie. You can make it. I promise. Keep praying. Prayer is what will save you. Remember me, Amber. Never forget. I'll always be here for you. I'll always love you. I'll always listen to you pray at night. I'll always silently cry as mommy hits you. But you won't know- you won't see me. I don't have to be strong anymore. I don't have to be strong for you. I can cry. I can scream. I can run away from the pain now. That's what I've always wanted. And all I ask is that you never, and I mean never, follow in my footsteps. Get married, have kids. Tell them stories about Auntie Riah. Tell them how much I would have loved them. Teach them about God. Teach them the things I taught you. I love you so much, baby girl. Be strong for me. I love you.
It's amazing how someones life can come down to a few pages. Almost 14 years. 14 years on a page and a half. How sad is that? All I've ever wanted was to be okay again. And my death will make me okay. My death will make everyone okay again. This is my life, beginning to end. This is my story, beginning to end. Screw this.
This is my suicide note.