Fifty Two Weeks

The Chat Room is open. You are now talking to a complete stranger.
Stranger: Hiiiiii
You: Hi
Stranger: hw come your in The Chat Room???
You: What do you mean?
Stranger: like what do you want to be getting out of this... ;)
You: To tell you the truth, I’m on here to see if anyone would care if I told them I was going to kill myself.
Stranger: ... riiight
Stranger has signed out.

The Chat Room is open. You are now talking to a complete stranger.
Stranger: hi
You: Hi
Strangers: hows it goin?
You: That depends
Stranger: depends on wht???
You: On whether you want the real answer or the fake one
Stranger: wel which ones longer?
You: Real
Stranger: short one please! Hahahah
You: I’m fine.
Stranger: ... hahaaha okaaay........
Stranger has signed out.

The Chat Room is now open. You are now talking to a complete stranger.
Stranger: Yo
You: Hi
Stranger: Im gonna be strait here. Im here for the tits so get them out or leav yeah haha
You: Is that all you care about? Do you not care about the person?
Stranger: Y the fuck woud i care about tht??
Stranger has signed out.

The Chat Room is now open. You are now talking to a complete stranger.
Stranger: Hey
You: Hi
Stranger: Hows it going?
You: I’m actually not doing to great.
Stranger: Excellent! That means u should deffo listen to my band! They like proper lift you out of funks! Seriously they’re really good.
You: I think I’m a bit too low right now to be pulled out by your band.
Stranger: Thats way harsh, no offence but youre kinda a bitch
Stranger has signed out.

Stranger: Hi there
You: Hi
Stranger: How are you?
You: Do you actually care?
Stranger: Of course I care; why wouldn’t I?
You: Because apparently no one else does.
Stranger: No, I’m serious I care, tell me what’s up.
You: Okay, the truth is, I’m not okay. I’m really, really not. I keep telling people that I am or maybe they keep telling me that I am, I’m not sure anymore, it’s all just blurred into one. Sometimes I get so cold inside that I think that I’m going to break into a million, shivering pieces and I have no idea how. Other times I feel like I’m having piece by piece of me slowly ripped off from the inside out. The days are starting to all blur into one. I used to just tell myself, get through one more day, one more day, everything will be better tomorrow. But how can I do that now? When my whole life is just one aching, tiring, heart splintering day; just one endless second of abysmal misery. My dad ran off before I could walk; my mum’s too coked up to notice I’m there; the repo men are knocking on our door every other day and I can barely scrounge any food together to get through the day. I’ve fallen behind in all my lessons and I’m too tired most of the time from all of the scumbag parties that my mum throws to even begin to concentrate; this group of girls beat me up and spit on me every lunch and I can’t even fight back because I’m on parole from when my mum hid drugs in my bag. When I get home I can’t hear myself think over the pounding in my head and scraping against my lungs and the only time I look forward to is when I’m asleep.

But even with all of this, I would be able to cope with it if even one person cared, just one. But no one listens to me when I try to speak, they just try to stuff me full of pills and set me on my way. The pills don’t even work, you know, I tried to many once to get the emptiness in my stomach to go away that I ended up heaving them all up. Now I think about it that’s probably the most hopeful I’ve felt in a while: lying on the cracked, grimy tiles with my hair dangling in the toilet bowl, thinking maybe, just maybe, there were enough to give me peace.

But there wasn’t, so now I’m sat at this computer, and I’ve decided I’m going to give this whole thing one more shot before I take the plunge, just one last test to see if anyone does actually care: to see if the world can prove me wrong and make up for the aching in my bones.
Stranger: Look, I’ve got to go, but good look with all that, see a councillor or something, you’ll be fine.
Stranger has signed out.

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