November 19, 2012
The chair beneath my feet; the noose around my neck, slightly tied to the end of a branch attached to a white, dust ocean, fan. Tears pour out of my eyes, down my pail cheeks, into my shirt; soaking up the moisture of a melancholy, excruciating, life all in one drop. "Why am I here? Will anyone miss me? What the f**k did I do wrong? Why… Me?" screaming the words aloud yet, with out a sound. Telling my self every thing I have, who I have. A mother that all ways wants to help, a father that doesn't care, a little brother clueless yet, dreadful; and yet again I try to put on my "happy mask" and just smile, it doesn't work. I am dead; all of the bullying, the joking, the abuse, I cant take it anymore.