Abschied || suicide translated

part 1

I'm standing on the railing. The wind pulls my hair and I feel the rain on my skin. Everything feels so surreal, then I take another deep breath and jump off. On the way down the wind whistles in my ears. Then the impact, I'm waiting for the pain to start, but nothing happens, I can't move, I just lie there, then everything goes black. It's dark, I slowly open my eyes and a blazing light dazzles - is that death? I see blurry shadows in front of me and suddenly I have an extreme headache, this can't be the end. I hear a voice in the distance before losing consciousness again. The next time I wake up, it's a little better, the light is no longer dazzling and the voices are clearer. I hear two men in white coats talking seriously and when they see that I'm awake they rush over to me. I now realize that I must be in the hospital and these men are doctors. I can't believe I was looking for a rainy day and didn't tell anyone where I was going. Apparently I'm not even able to do that. About 2 hours after I woke up my parents came to me, at that moment I felt incredibly sick. How would you react? Would you be disappointed? My father is the first to enter the room, his eyes reflect concern but also disgust. My mother follows him and I can see that she was crying. My brother isn't even there - he probably doesn't care. The doctors talk to my parents in a low voice and then leave the room. The question hammers in my head if my father knows about who I really am and how I feel, but this question is answered immediately when he asks me why I hadn't told him earlier how I feel but his look while he that just confirms my decision. I have to stay in the hospital for observation for the next two weeks. Then my parents direct me to a psychiatric clinic, where I spend another four weeks. However, every day I become more and more unhappy. On my first day back at school it feels like all eyes are on me everyone seems to know what happened looks at me with such a pitiful look that I want to leave.
only the usual candidates joke. During the break I look for a quiet corner I don't want to go to my friends to avoid their pity I can still manage the last few hours and so I finally get back home at 1:40 p.m have an appointment with a psychologist. I'm so afraid to talk about how I'm doing let alone my identity. Two weeks go by like this I talk more about myself but inside I feel worse and worse. Two months after my first unsuccessful attempt, I'm back on the tower, this time not to jump. I hold the knife in one hand and the vodka bottle in the other to give me courage. I'm scared but determined. Finally I hold the blade to my neck and with a jerk it's all over.