I don't like to remember my past. Mostly I like to forget, to shut out those dark days where I couldn’t hide my pain. Where I still had a shred of innocence that left me protected from this dark messed up world. But what can I say? My story doesn't have a happy ending. None of ours does. Before you say anything I'm not telling you this for your pity. No ,I'm telling you this for you to stop and listen. Not just to my story but to the others out there.
We're everywhere if you look hard enough. The shattered and the broken. The ones who store our pain or scream it out to the world who don't listen. Until we've finally reached our breaking points. Nobody wants to acknowledge we exist because that would mean placing blame and no one wants to point a finger especially at themselves.
My name is Alice. I know what your thinking. My last name? Well that doesn't matter anymore. Because guess what? I'm one of the fallen. I'm one of the dead. I'm one of the young ones too. And it definately wasnt any accident. You want to know how I know that? Because I did it. I killed myself. I took my own life.