You’re sitting in your room, door locked, with a pen in your hand and

a blank piece of paper infront of you. Your hand is shaking, and the 

tears begin again, for the third time in the past hour. ‘To my family’

you write at the top of the page, but decide it’s a bad way to begin

your letter, your suicide letter. You try again, start over, again and

again, but you don’t know where to begin. No one understands you;

no one knows what you’re going through, you’re alone or at least

that’s what you think. Nobody would care if you’re alive or not, you

mean nothing to nobody. It’s night, and you slip into bed. ’Goodbye’

you whisper into the darkness. And with that, you take your last

breathe and end it all. No body cares, right? Well you thought wrong.

It’s a Tuesday the following morning, and when it’s 7:21, your

mother comes and knocks on your door. She doesn’t know you can’t

hear her she doesn’t know you’regone. She knocks a few more times,

calling your name to open up. When there is no reply from your side

of the door, she opens it and screams. She collapses on the ground

while your dad rushes to your room. Your siblings have already left

for school. Your very weak mother collects all the energy she’s got

which is close to nothing to walk over to your bed. She leans over

your dead body, crying, squeezing your hand, screaming. Your dad is

trying to stay strong, but the tears escape his eyes; calling 000 or

911 with his left hand while his other one is on your mother’s back.

Your mother blames herself. All those times she had said ‘no’ to you,

all those times she had screamed at you, and sent you to your room

over something stupid. Your father will blame himself for not being

there for you when you asked for help, for being away from home at

work for long. Nobody cares, right? 8:34. There’s a knock on your

classroom door it’s the school principle. She looks more worried than

ever. She calls the teacher to the side; all the students worried:

what’s going on? The principle then later announces about your

suicide. The popular girl that always called you fat and ugly is now

blaming herself. The kid that would always copy your homework but

treat you like crap, he’s blaming himself. The boy that sits behind

you, the one that always threw things at you during class, he’s

blaming himself too. The teacher is blaming herself - for all those

times she’d scream at you for forgetting your homework, or not

listening in class. People are crying, screaming, shocked, in regret of

what they did. They’ll all be devastated - even the kids you’ve never

talked to before. Still nobody cares about you, right? Your siblings

get home. Your mother has to tell them that you’re gone; forever.

Your little sister, no matter how many times she’s screamed at you,

told you she hated you and stole your stuff, always loved you, and

saw you as her hero; her role model. She now starts to blame herself;

why didn’t I do what she told me to do when she told me to? Why did

I take her stuff even when she asked me not to? This is all my fault.

Your brother gets home, the boy that never cries. He’s now in his

room; mad at himself, he caused your death. All those times he’d

played pranks on you. He’s punching holes in his wall, turning over

things; he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re gone.

Forever. Nobody cares about you, right? Right? It has been over a

month. The door to your room has been closed all this time.

Everything is different now. Your brother has to be sent to anger

management classes, your little sister cries everyday still waiting for

you to come back. Everyday she waits for you to come back home.

The popular girls have now turned anorexic. They don’t know how to

deal with the pain that they’re feeling. Your father has depression;

your mother hasn’t slept for nights it’s all her fault. She’s been crying

and screaming every night wishing for you to come back. The boy

who would always bother you dropped out of school. The boy that

copied your homework now cuts. But nobody cares about you, aren’t

I right? Your mother finally decides to go clean out your room. But

she can’t do it. She’s locked herself in your room for two days to try

to clean up your clothes, your things. But she can’t, she can’t say

goodbye to you, not yet, not now. Never. It’s your funeral. It’s a big

one, everybody comes. No one knows what to say. The beautiful girl

with the big smile is gone; you’re somewhere else. No one knows

what to say, they’re all still shocked. Everyone cries, everyone misses

you. They all wish you’d come back but you don’t, and you won’t.

Still think nobody cares about you? Think again. Even if people don’t

show it, they care about you, they love you. If you kill yourself today

or any other day you won’t know just how much you meant to

people. If you kill yourself today, it stops your pain, but it pains all

the ones who know you for the rest of their life. Suicide is the easy

way out - but it’s the wrong choice. Life is beautiful. Yes, it does

have its ups and downs everyone has their bad days. Sometimes

people go through tough times in their lives like you’re probably

going through now but bad times come and go. You might not see

the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s there. No matter how hard

life gets, never give up on yourself, or on your life. Take a minute

now, and think. If you killed yourself ~ how would the people that

love you feel/go through? Can’t think of anything? Well I’ll tell you:

tears, tears, and more tears. Devastation. Guilt. Pain. Broken. Regret.

Miserable. If after reading this you still feel suicidal, there are people

that can help you. I’m here for you whenever you need me, and I’ll be

more than happy to listen to you and try to help you feel better.

There are teachers, parents, grandparents, neighbors, adults,

councilors, they’re all there for you whenever you need them.

—————————————————————————————

i did not write this, i got it from someone else. I’m not sure who wrote it, it is not my intention to copyright their things. this does not belong to me. x 

but if you do not relate to this at all and it did not help you; and you want to (anonymously or not) talk to someone, i’m here for you!