Everyday for the past few weeks I've pulled out a knife I have had hidden in my room and push the blade against my wrist. Hoping that this time I'll have the courage to push down and end it all. Each time ends the same. I wimp out. After all dying is a permanent choice. Surely if I wait just one more day I'll find a reason to continue breathing. So once again I put the knife away and go to bed instead.
The next day starts out innocent enough. I walk to school in a daze alone. Alone with thoughts of just how worthless I really am. That I'm a coward for not ending it last night. I arrive at school. I put my stuff in my locker and head to my homeroom class.
As usual I sit down in the classroom unnoticed. Some girl next to me starts to talk to me. She's nice, but I'm so used to this crap. They pretend to like you and wait till you trust them to stab you in the back. I just smile and say what I'm expected to say. Nothing I say is how I really feel. It's just what people want to hear. Why tell someone how I feel when no one really cares?
I continue the day in the same manner of fake answers and in a daze. The only class that's more painful than the rest is at the end of the day. That teacher really doesn't hide that he thinks I'm a cheat and a liar. All because I actually love to read and love that class. Books have been the thing that has given me hope all this time, but even that is beginning to fade. His indirect insults hurt but I've come to the point where I've begun to believe them. Insults from another teen is one thing, but if my teachers are thinking the same thing it must be true.
On the way home I begin my ritual of thinking about ending it all. For the first time in thinking about it I'm not afraid. I feel at peace at knowing my pain will end with my death. Death itself seems more my salvation than something that is scary and final. A way to end my needless suffering.
I get home and race to my bedroom. I write one last diary entry. Peace is mine at last. With that I shut my diary for the last time. Pull the knife from it's hiding place it put the cold blade against my wrist.
I take a deep breath and am astonished that I'm not scared this time. I smile as I push the blade against my wrist slitting myself open. I lay on my bed and let myself grow weaker. Sure there is pain, but this pain is a good pain. It's a pain letting me know peace is mine at last. I whisper a prayer begging forgiveness from God. The one and only one who does care. I then take my last breath and fade away.
As I feel myself fading I hear the scream and cries of my mother. Now that I'm not in my body I see her sorrow at finding her child dead. It's only now that I understand how wrong I was. My parents and family loved me and I was ignorant of it. The nice girl from school genuinely thought of me as a friend but I'd been hurt so many times I was not capable of understanding that. Worst of all is they are left with nothing to explain why.
