Worthless Angel

This year was the same
as every other year. I
just managed to escape
the pain of terrifyingly
real memories. I want
it to stop, but I know that it
never will. It couldn't be stopped
with punishment, kindness, or
even rewards. The bullies always
came back to hurt me.

Scars covered my body from
my own methods of release.
They pushed me in the halls,
knocked my books from my arms,
tripped me in class. I had to keep
a straight face, or the bullies would
find more joy and reason to do it
more. I had tried to stop it with
therapy, self-harming, and threats
of suicide, but nothing worked.

I have a choice. This is my body.
My life. My actions. So, the next day in
class, I walked up to the white board
and began writing...

My time and existence on this earth have been
short and painful due to bullies. I listed their
names. Every single one. Then, I wrote,
Born April 7 1998, Died September 19 2011.
Everyone stared, teacher, kids, and even my reflection
in the mirror across the room. Tears ran as I pulled the
gun in my coat pocket, up to my head. It was ready for me to fire.
I pulled the trigger and felt my body go numb as I
crashed to the floor.

I'm in heaven now, but I'm still worthless.
I only wish I could have another gun to end everything for real.
The memories of abuse and pain can be washed away,
all I have to do is pull the trigger.....

Rest in peace Jade...I love you always sissy.