ℂ𝕣𝕦𝕖𝕝𝕥𝕪 | 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕠𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕚

sixty three

TW: mentions of suicide and minor mature themes.

I hated myself, I couldn't stand looking at myself in the mirror. Not in the morning, not going to bed. Even when I went to bed, I didn't sleep. I was down in the dumps of life, struggling to cling to what little I had.

Sometimes it was bearable, like the ache I had was soothed for a split moment in time. Then it would fade and get bad, like right now. I sat at my desk, pen in hand and paper infront of me.

I wrote on the piece of paper, my tears hitting the paper and smudging my writing. I was selfish because I was writing a suicide note. I couldn't bare myself, bare the weight on my shoulders.

Every second of my day was tainted with him, with them, with screams. And it was too much to bare. I'd believed myself a strong person, I forced myself to be. Because if I wasn't strong, who would be?

But this weight, this continuous tug on my soul was hard on me. I wasn't as strong as I had portrayed myself, for I was weak. I was human and like everyone else, I bled.

My conscience stained my everyday life and I didn't feel worthy of life. I didn't feel worthy of happiness for I was born into a family of merely blood. I was born unto a family of scars and pain.

Maybe if fate hadn't fucked me over, I wouldn't be here writing this. I wouldn't be here writing my last and final words on a piece of tear stained paper for those close to me to read in the wake of my death.

My mother wouldn't have to find me in the morning and my friends wouldn't mourn my death. Eri wouldn't have to find out about her role model killing herself. Shoto wouldn't have to deal with the loss of his soulmate.

I buried my head in my hands as Shoto crossed my mind. He'd lose someone he needed, he'd be devastated. If I died he'd have to bury me. Tears fell down like the pain of a never ending stab wound.

I was a terrible person for even considering as such. What was wrong with me? My mother would find me lifeless in my room and I couldn't do that to her.

She loved me and she'd told me her purpose was to be the mother I needed. How could I consider committing suicide when she had just gotten a daughter? I grabbed the note and crumpled it in a ball, throwing it on the floor in anger.

I had to bare the weight of my sins. Killing myself wasn't an option because I'd rather slowly lose myself than put my loved ones through the insurmountable pain they'd experience in my passing.

I'd rather hurt myself than hurt them.

~~~

I had no energy today but I had to put up the facade that I had slept as it was the Cultural Festival. We all stood backstage, Jiro and I running vocal warm-ups together.

Midoriya was late and that alone was concerning but I pushed past it, practicing even though the greenette was cutting it close. Jiro and I did amazing.

We'd been practicing for the last two weeks, our voices seemingly perfect together. The band were amazing too, the backup dancers doing a seamless job.

Midoriya had arrived on time, five minutes before the show but he was there all the wise. The crowd went wild when we finished and Jiro and I held hands and raised them high in the air.

I looked out to the thousands of faces, my eyes landing on one person in particular. Eri sat atop Aizawa's shoulders, her lips stretched into a genuine grin.

I felt tears fall down my cheeks as I stared at her ecstatic face. I'd done it, we'd made her smile. Midoriya caught my gaze and I wiped at my wet eyes, him doing the same.