silent-tearsss:

Your home. It’s 1:02 in the morning. The skies dark. Everyone’s asleep. Except you. Its a Saturday and you don’t have to wake up 9:00 anymore because your daddy isn’t coming home ever again. At least that’s what you think. You see him and your mum had a fight last week. She kicked him out and he hasn’t returned ever since. Your convinced that you will never see him again. You were daddy’s angel. You two got along so well. You loved him more than anyone in the world. You don’t get along with your mum so well. She doesn’t understand you, in fact she never understood you. She would always criticize  the length of your skirt or the height of your heels. She never really understood the fact that the only way you were to fit in is if you dressed like that. You don’t even like what you wear either, but you don’t want to be made fun of by all the ‘popular’ girls.

Your laying in bed. Your crying. You had a bad day at school today. The teacher yelled at you because you weren’t paying attention in class. Little did she know that you were eyeing out that pencil sharpener on the teacher’s desk. You caught your friends talking about how weird you’ve been acting over the past week. Little did they know, your daddy left you. Your boyfriend doesn’t even tell you he loves you anymore, you feel as though he treats you less than what he used to. Little did he know that you’ve been thinking of committing suicide for the past few weeks. You go to get your blade. But you can’t find it. You panic because you’re the only one that knows where it is. Then you remember. Its under your pillow. You grab it. You squeeze your right hand so that there is a little fat on your wrist to make it easier for you to cut. You start at one end of your wrist and finish at the other. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. It hurts. The pain feels satisfying. Your bleeding all over your pillow case. You go to get whatever it is you can find you wipe the blood away that is dripping from your wrist. You can barely see. Your eyes are so blurry. You remember that you have an unopened tissue box in your cupboard. You go to your cupboard. Right next to the tissue box, there is a rope. And instead of getting your tissue box, you get the rope. The blood from your wrists are now dripping on the floor. You have left a trail. You go to lock your door. You feel numb. You can barely walk in a straight line. You stare blankly at that rope for a minute or two. Your mind is going to explode with thoughts. “Should I?” you ask yourself. Your determined that it will get better. Your determined that one day you will wake up with a smile. With hope. Your determined that one day, someone will accept you for who you are and not the person your pretending to be. Its now 1:09. The rope is still in your hands. You’ve came up with a decision. You overlook that decision in your head again. You believe that this decision will benefit everyone. You believe that your time is up. You have to leave. You go to your shoe box and take out all the suicide notes you’ve written over your lifetime. Your whole world is written in the limit of two pages. You’ve written 10 letters. Each one had a certain extent of detail considering how comfortable you were with that person. You grab your phone and text your boyfriend. ‘I’m sorry babe, I’m sorry for everything. I love you’. You give him a few seconds to reply back. He must be asleep. You place the suicide letters neatly on your bed. There is still blood on your wrist. Your phone is on your bed too. You get a chair and tie the rope. You take a deep breath. Close your eyes and say to yourself “I’m not backing down”. You finally set up the rope. You go to grab your phone. Your now standing on top of the chair. The rope is on your neck. The only thing you need to do now is jump off. You take a deep breath. You count to three. One. Two. And on the count of three, your phone in your hand rings. Its your boyfriend. But its too late. You can’t answer that phone call because you, well dead. You committed suicide. Your gone and there’s no going back. You’re swinging back and forth. Its 7:30 am and its time to get up for school. You usually wake up before 7:30. But today, something feels strange. You’re not up. Your mother gets your 10 year old sister to go and wake you up. She walks up the stairs. She is about to open your door. Something feels wrong. She feels as though something is up. She opens the door and sees you hanging there, swinging on a rope. She screams and runs to your mum and hugs her. Your mum is unsure as to why your sister is crying so she asks her whats wrong. “Mummy, she’s swinging from a rope, she’s not moving mummy!”. Your mum doesn’t believe it. She goes to your room. And your there, swinging back and forth. Right in front of her eyes, her little girl has just committed suicide. She can barely move. She instantly dials 000. She can barely get the words out of her mouth; “My daughter has killed herself”. She calls your daddy. She tells him that his beautiful angel has committed suicide. He rushes over. Comforting your mum. The ambulance comes. They take the rope down. As well as your body. They put your body in a bodybag and take you out of your room. Your mum can’t breathe. She is in shock. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening” she tells herself. She is screaming, questioning why God did this to her. Your sister has locked herself in her room. She is on her knees praying to God to bring you back. She thinks that you will come back. Little does she know, your never going to come back. Your dad is trying his hardest to keep a strong face. He is trying so hard to not show that he is hurt as much as he really is. He is trying to play the tough guy. He always used to do it, remember? He isn’t doing a good job of that. He broke down. You see, he needed you. Your parents shut your room. A month has passed. Your mother now has the courage to go into your room. She walks in your room to find the suicide notes on your bed. She opens hers up. “Dear mum, thank you for being there for me but my time is up. You don’t know what its like being me. I’ve completely destroyed myself. Please don’t blame yourself as it isnt your fault. I lost my battle.. I’m sorry.” She can barely read this. She puts it aside, sits on your bed and smells your favourite shirt. Its smells just like you. Your dad walks in the room along with your sister. They sit on your bed. They reminise the times they had with you, the laughs they shared with you. This brings sadness to their eyes as they will never share that with you again.

3 years have passed and your friends still cry about you every so often. They all blame themselves that they weren’t a good friend towards you. Your friend cuts every night because she believes that its her fault. The girl that made fun of you killed herself last week as she things that it’s her fault you killed yourself. Your boyfriend is in and out of hospital. He really did love you and will never stop loving you. You see, you were so blinded to the fact that people actually do love you and actually do need you. You will never be able to see your sister get married, she needed you. Every Wednesdays for show and tell, she brings in something of yours and recalls a story where you’s two bonded over it. She loved you so much. What’s she going to do without you? What about your mother? Or your father? Or what about your best friends? The world needed you. They always have and they always will. It may seem as though they don’t need you anymore. But that’s just a temporary phase. Don’t make a permanent decision on a temporary thought. It gets better, trust me. Think of the impacts it will have on your loved ones. It will haunt them alive that they could have done something about it, but didn’t. Think about it. 

(Source: beautiful-siinner, via beautiful-siinner)