I was sat at my desk in my 12th grade english class, bouncing my leg up and down rapidly. Mrs. Lee was busy writing the game plan for her class that day as I was busy contemplating the beginning of the end. Should i really do this, i mulled over in my brain, is it really worth it?
I excuse myself as I try to choke back the lump in my throat. When Mrs. Lee asks me where I'm going and if I'm okay, I tell her I'm going to counseling (liar liar.) and that I need to talk to someone. (pants on fire.)
I leave the classroom after grabbing my things. I rub the peach fuzz on my head from where I had recently shaved. I walked to the trophy case and looked at myself in the reflection of the glass. My head was bald, glasses dirty. The clothes I wore were the ones I had slept in three nights in a row. I hadn't showered in a week. My feet were crusty and cracking and my finger and toenails were overgrown and needed a trim. I sighed as the last of the students giggled and walked past me to their classes. Stupid bitches, i thought. Don't you have anything better to laugh at? Laugh at the down syndrome kids too while you're at it, huh?
The bell rings. I take a moment to breathe and look at my surroundings one last time. This was it, I thought. This was finally the day I was going to take my own life. I was going to kill myself. I had no job, no money, my mom hated me, my friends didn't care about me. Life had become dull and I was ready to end it.
Before I could walk to the front entrance, a thought passed through my head. Several thoughts actually. What are yuo leaving behind if you kill yourself? What is the significance of what you are about to do, going to do to those around you?
I thought about it a little longer as I stood there. I waited in silence, the ringing of my ears from the lack of sleep drowning out the quiet space.
"Maybe I should talk to my counselor."
