Suicide Letters

Age: 15

The blade didn't become my friend until now, I discovered it myself. Or maybe I just happened to read it somewhere where it said that teenagers used pain to get over stress, worries, and relief. So I happened to see that it was true... and weirdly it was. Although the pain made my mind concentrate on the wounded area, reminding me how bad I happened to be living in this life. How unnecessary it was for me to be alive.... at this point in my life I was able to realize that I wasen't worth a lot. Of course, like society looked at it, I was known as an emo kid.

To be very honest in the beginning I did consider myself as an "emo" kid. A kid who would cut herself and bleed for fun. But at the same time I did consider myself as a low life. A person who just never had any type of talent. Who no matter what they did in life, it would be worth nothing. What did my struggles mean? I wondered everyday if I could ever be the kind of person I always wished that I could be... why am I even here at all?

I never had the answers to these weird questions I happened to waste my time on thinking about. The sleeve on my arm goes a tad bit up, revealing the red fresh line around the side of my wrist. I stare at it, wondering why I didn't go deeper... how many more did I do after that one? I'm actually surprised no one seemed to notice... then again I know nothing is noticeable on me. I guess that saves me a lot of....... stress and frustrations? Because no one will bug me for these stupid odd childish marks on my skin and ask 'Omg! How did you get that?!'

I always hated that, when people would ask like if it be their business. They would ask like if they really actually cared, when in reality they would judge you discreetly but make it seem like they did. Assholes. Straight up assholes, they didn't care at all, they gave zero fucks as to what was wrong, or why I was doing what I was doing. Good thing lies would always come in handy in times like those, but at the same time I hated lieing about something I was ready to scream about and cry. But I was afraid.... I was afraid to be pushed away, I wanted to be that golden coin everybody liked. To me it was fairly impossible, but I tried my best to be that coin.

I look down at the cut again, next to the scars that were already old enough to just touch them without me squinting from the pain. Those were old... but they still always took me back to that time, the time where everything started... where everything broke loose. My eyes seem to lose focus of the red line cut on my wrist, as I realized they filled up with tears. Dammit! I never allowed myself to cry out in the public at all, it was a weak thing for me. I quickly blink many times as I change the song from my ipod to Evanescence- Haunted. I relax and let the pain in my chest just subside by itself.... my eyes meet my teacher's eyes and she smiles what seemed like a 'Today is a great day!!!' smile. Teachers always seem happy, it's what they get payed to do. Bastards.

"Is everything ok?"

I smile back and nod my head with a quick 'Mmhmm' reply, going back to my packet that I was working on. Thank god this was homeschool, if I'd be in an actual classroom I'd sink in the chair and have this random stupid teacher I didn't care about scold me til class was over. Homeschool was very isolating, but I guess it kept me away from everybody.