I dont think I really want to kill myself, but I would'nt care if you held the gun to my head.
I dont really know how to explain things, or even really how to begin. Everyone thinks about death at one point in their life, some think about the death of a family member or of a friend and then there are the people that think about death as in killing themself. Now don't get me wrong, suicide is not my number one choice, and I really don't want to kill myself but there's something about the blood. Blood is different with all people, some is darker and some is thicker, lighter, thinner blah blah blah. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, cut all ties or veins in some cases. Maybe I'm just...crazy, warped as mommy dearest likes to say. See my mother likes to think I'm the only fucked up one out there, but little does she know this precious angel got it all from her mommy and daddy. I don't hate them, but I don't really like them. Father spent all of his time at work, driving a semi truck for days on end. He never really had time for us. Mother spent her time weighing the trucks, typing away on her cute little calculator. I guess you could say I pretty much raised myself. No one was around except my demons. Summer is supposed to be the best time of the year, swimming, parties, family, fun. 11 yearsold, not a care in the world and suddenly I stand out too much and end up getting raped. See if I thought my parents cared, I would've told them. But now I'm 19 yearsold and they still don't know. Mommy and Daddy think I'm crazy, mommy wishes she aborted my and daddy does too. Sometimes I wish they had, too.
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