antonia;my story

Reads: 238  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
this is about a girl committing suicide and why.

Submitted: June 13, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 13, 2017



I’m the person who you accused of being a weirdo, an outcast in high school. I’m the person everyone one called the weakling or the geek. I’m the one no one remembers because I slaughtered my own life in my wretched hands and took my final breath. Here is how my story began, hope you enjoy.

23rd of April 2004, the worst day of my short existence, the day my wrecked life began and society pushed me aside. Even growing up, sadness cursed my heart; I never really had a “normal” upbringing. In short, my dad was a cruel man who lashed out every other week and a mother unaccepting and a push-over. The true weakling. He got sacked after he was accused of a mental problem, meaning a life of going without. When I was 12, he finally got a job and stopped raging but problems only just started.

 I was only 11, when I first put the sharpest blade in the house up to my plump wrist. Full of blood. The way out was right in front of me, who was I to not accept it. Thanks to a friend I stopped… for a little while.  A few words couldn’t save me, I was too far gone. Pain outside made the pain inside disappear until the next person tested my patience or my sister viciously attacked someone on her druggie rampage. My family money problems were seriously being influenced, my sister lost all shame the moment she stole from her family. A disgrace.

No one liked me, bullies targeted me, I didn’t want to get involved but one day in my 2nd year of high school I snapped. I stood up for myself and justice but inside I was weak minded. Tears and a frown followed me everywhere until I fell into a deep state of depression to which I would never escape from. My cuts got worse as each day passed. Rumours spread in corridors and classrooms. All my friends were in different sets or years. Isolated, abandoned; only some of the feeling I harboured. Happiness never crossed my heart for years, the need to put on a happy face only left me after a few years along with all my friends. Apart from a short group just like me except I helped them stop but they never helped me.

Skiving increased dramatically, so did the number of smiles I wore. My grades went down and I now have a noisy social worker because of my uncivilised family members. I had enough of all this bullshit everywhere. All I could think of which way, how many cuts, what type of pills.

And so, I picked up the nearest razor and sliced my fleshy, juicy skin. Crimson liquid cascaded out staining the blade. Pain. Pain. Pain. But no one to help. Blood trickled down to floor even faster as I heard myself faint, moments before all hell broke loose and my mind was no more. Nobody couldn’t have known what kind of horror I was in or could they? but ignored the fact and refused to listen.

© Copyright 2018 Antonia Richmond. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: