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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story about how it feels to be sad, depressed and suicidal. Really opens your mind to how others may feel.

Submitted: April 23, 2017

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Submitted: April 23, 2017



The brain is a bewildered mess with a variety of messed up thoughts and feelings, in which can make someone messed up on a whole other spectrum to a 'normal' person. 

Slowly the weeks of laying in bed and crying yourself to sleep you start to find comforting, because sleep is the best drug, it's an easy escape from the sadness and depression so you take it in big doses for a better effect. Later you crave it and getting up becomes a task because you just want to lie in bed and sleep away from all of your minds torture. Months later the sleep wears off and your wrists are stained red, you've found a new drug and you wish even more that you are dead. 

You spend nights crying over how your mind is a mess, then you picked up the blade and your body is now also a mess. Most people wouldn't get it when they seen the scars on your wrists and they couldn't understand that it was the most elaborate way of dealing, they'd tell you to stop without realising that it doesn't just stop. People can't realise that, just for a minute when the blade punctures your skin all of the pain in your mind is forgotten, just for a moment the world is still and all you focus on is the crimson dots that form a neat dotted line on your wrist. People see the scars and the cuts and they conclude that you want to kill yourself, but no, they will never understand that you are cutting yourself so that you can stay alive, to sidetrack your mind from the thoughts that make you suicidal. Living in constant knowledge that you're not good enough, pretty enough is what has left you so reckless with your body. You are told that you are selfish and self centered if you want to hurt yourself or kill yourself because there are people out there who have it worse than you but the only thing that is really selfish is treating people so badly that they physically want to end their lives. 

The months of cutting become years and people lose interest and you're just the girl who cut herself, the counseling, the pills, the help you pretend everything is now fine so that you're not bothering anyone because you don't want to make a big deal but really every time you cut now your cry for help.

As you lie in your bed you contemplate the easiest ways to end your life, jump off a bridge, cut so deep you bleed to death or just overdose on pills. The extensive need to die is what fills your mind and you can't go a day without thinking about it. Soon it gets to the point that you hate yourself every time you cross a road without just standing there and letting the car hit you or being stood on a building and then not jumping off it. But now all those thoughts seem to have gone because now you're sat on a bed holding your death sentence, small white pills with a powdery residue that cakes your fingers. 

Tears are streaming down your face and each one reminding you of everywhere you went wrong in life. Soon the pills are in your mouth and are all traveling down your throat. You feel relaxed and you can feel the small white pills traveling through your system destroying your insides. You feel at peace now you know that your suffering is about to end. You lift your covers and submerge your body in them as you lay in your bed and then you close your eyes and everything is over.

You're dead. Your life's over. Your soul watches as your parents enter your room after minutes of callings yet no replies. First your mother, she rushed to your bedside and calls your name. She then shakes you softly, then vigorously but you don't wake up. She collapses into your chest and soaks the clothes that cover your dead body with tears. 

Then your father, he panics but he knows it's too late. He collapses by your mother and cradles her head and tears come pouring out of his eyes. Days of sadness turn into weeks and your mother doesn't even leave the house anymore she falls into a depressed trance and despite your fathers efforts your mother is now gone, slowly wasting away. She loved you with all her heart and now you're gone and so is she.

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