Have you ever held the gun to your head? Told yourself, "This is the end?" Closed your eyes, pictured your brains on the floor. Letting yourself awaken from the daydream. Gun still held tight by your pretty little fingers. The storm getting worse outside.
And inside I still feel like I want to die. You know you are going to pull it sometime. Why cant you do it now? You don’t want to feel pain anymore. You are stuck in a situation, you can’t flee yourself from. You remember those images you have seen. Why not take a walk in front of the on coming train? Why not take this blade to your wrist you have been hiding under your bed for so long? What is so wrong with taking sleeping pills and inhaling those beautiful toxic fumes? All these you have dreamed of tryingbut never actually attempted. Some could result in a gruesome aftermath. But you really want to just leave everything you have created everybody you have loved everybody who loved you in the past Fuck the positives. All the sad depressing things in your life has built up so much and you have no choice. Pull the trigger or continue living in agony. Such a horrible decision to have to endure choosing. You choose to pull the trigger. You cannot imagine what pain your family is going to have to live with. Maybe you should leave a note; letting everyone know it’s not their fault, they had nothing to do with this.
But this is the punishment you can live with... This bullet is all you've got left and you are anticipating the shock. You are stuck with shame and you do not want you're whole family to see your mutilated body So you think of a hidden place. A place where no one can find you. They say the serial killers hide victim’s in-between the walls so no one can find them. Should you shove yourself in that little space and carry on the same? When you are dead and gone, it will not matter what location you are in. Now your cold, fragile, frightened self creeps into the storage room in the basement. Where nobody goes; this is the best you have darling. This is where you will witness your last fucking breath. You hold the gun to your head, you are huddling yourself in the corner, shaking. You count to 10...one, two, three, you need some more encouragement. You contemplate that time you walked into your new classroom, and all the boys boo'd you. You think your ugly. Then you remember that time you're father saw you for the first time in over a year.
And inside I still feel like I want to die. You know you are going to pull it sometime. Why cant you do it now? You don’t want to feel pain anymore. You are stuck in a situation, you can’t flee yourself from. You remember those images you have seen. Why not take a walk in front of the on coming train? Why not take this blade to your wrist you have been hiding under your bed for so long? What is so wrong with taking sleeping pills and inhaling those beautiful toxic fumes? All these you have dreamed of tryingbut never actually attempted. Some could result in a gruesome aftermath. But you really want to just leave everything you have created everybody you have loved everybody who loved you in the past Fuck the positives. All the sad depressing things in your life has built up so much and you have no choice. Pull the trigger or continue living in agony. Such a horrible decision to have to endure choosing. You choose to pull the trigger. You cannot imagine what pain your family is going to have to live with. Maybe you should leave a note; letting everyone know it’s not their fault, they had nothing to do with this.
But this is the punishment you can live with... This bullet is all you've got left and you are anticipating the shock. You are stuck with shame and you do not want you're whole family to see your mutilated body So you think of a hidden place. A place where no one can find you. They say the serial killers hide victim’s in-between the walls so no one can find them. Should you shove yourself in that little space and carry on the same? When you are dead and gone, it will not matter what location you are in. Now your cold, fragile, frightened self creeps into the storage room in the basement. Where nobody goes; this is the best you have darling. This is where you will witness your last fucking breath. You hold the gun to your head, you are huddling yourself in the corner, shaking. You count to 10...one, two, three, you need some more encouragement. You contemplate that time you walked into your new classroom, and all the boys boo'd you. You think your ugly. Then you remember that time you're father saw you for the first time in over a year.
His first words stunned you.
"Let me see what you look like naked now that you’ve lost all that weight”. And now you want to crawl into some hole somewhere. Noone should feel like they don't belong. The people around you are mean.
You say "I'M SORRY, SO FUCKING SORRY!”
Your head is blasted apart. Brain is thrown and drops neatly 5 feet away from you. She's gone. No more feeling. No more pain.
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