I'm Tired

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
I'm going to be honest, I've been suicidal lately, and this is my way of coping with it. I won't ever do it, because I have a lot to live for and I have plans for my future, but depression isn't something that you can just shut off. If you're feeling suicidal or know somebody that is call the suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255 This is the hotline for the US.

Submitted: June 07, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 07, 2013



I put the pen and tapped my fingers on the oak desk pushed into the corner. I looked at the empty room, one a single twin and a dresser; my three pairs of shoes and my jewelry and birthdays proclaiming love; my pictures from my high school years. I’m a junior in high school, it’s December now. I opened my first diary and read the first page. It talked about my first crush, Mister Richy Rich. I snapped it shut and leaned the chair back, focusing on the glow in the dark starts on my ceiling, feeling my scars on my wrists itch. I closed my eyes and wished like hell I didn’t feel like this.

I pushed away from the desk and when to my dresser/mirror stand. I took my makeup off slowly, the actions more automatic than manual. Everything was auto-piloted these days; the smiles; the laughs; the acting like everything was okay. I fought back tears, fought to stay in school, and fought with myself, for months. But truth was, I was tired. I dumped the makeup remover pad in the trash and brushed out my hair, long and brown. It went nearly to my waist. I scooped it up in a bun then dropped it. I slipped out of my jeans and shirt, and put on some leggings and a tank top. I left my sandals on the floor and went to the kitchen. It was nearing midnight so nobody was awake. I simply left the house quietly, leaving my phone on my bed, the lights off and the door open. I shut the kitchen door and walked down the path.

I passed the cars and took a left, the way to the peer. They wind was blowing steadily but a storm was coming in so it was going to pick up. I smelled the fresh cut grass and the salt of the ocean. The wind was picking up and my hair was getting caught around me, I ignored it. The concrete beneath my bare feet was cold and heartless. I felt the dirt on my feet, but didn’t move to brush it off, it would matter soon anyway.

The walk took about five minutes. By then it had started to drizzle. I leaned over the edge of the railing and looked at the rocks below me. The waves crashed up against them, the sound reaching my ears just as the next wave came to beat against them. I smirked a little to myself and stuck my face into the rain. I felt my tummy trembled and finally some tears escaped. After months of holding it in, tears just fell from my eyes. I was finally letting down, letting go.

I swung leg over the railing and straddle it, watching the waves beat against each other, fighting over which was going to get to the rocks first. I swung the other leg over and sat on the railing. The rain was coming down harder now, the waving crashing furiously against the rocks. I felt Rose off the Titanic. I looked behind me, wishing my Leonardo DiCaperio would come and save me. So such luck.

I released my grip behind me and spread my arms around, face in the rain, eyes closed. My hair was plastered to my face and the wind gushed up, pushing me to the railing. I grabbed it, my heart racing, breathless. I felt free, finally free. I laughed, my head falling back as I screamed happily over the thundering waves.

I pushed away from the railing and went free falling into the water. It surrounded me and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I finally couldn’t feel a damn thing!

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