I could kill myself just so to make my parents finally care about me. Just so that they would realize that I actually was not okay. That I took antidepressants for a reason. That I struggled to speak, smile, go to school, do my homework, practice piano, because I was not okay, and not only because I was a lazy kid. I'm so done. Nothing works. It's been months, years.
I would kill myself so that people would see that it really was that bad. So my so called friends could understand that I wasn't a mean bitch, a bad friend, a crybaby. So that they would regret treating me that way, even if they knew what was going on with me.
So that teachers would finally feel guilty. About being so mean to me and making fun of me out loud, when I was struggling to work. I hope they'd regret not taking me seriously when I told them I was dedicating my life to school work. When I told them I was doing everything I could, working day and night.
I hope she regrets never caring about me. Always ignoring me when I told her I was depressed, when I told her that I started antidepressants, when I told her I had a bad reaction to those, so bad I could even walk for a day, or stay awake.
I hope he regrets telling me I was the least pleasant person to be around. I hope he regrets making me cry for days.
I can't feel better when everyone brings me down. When no one cares.
I am this close. I have nothing to do here.
When I am gone, I want you all to regret and know that you could have helped me. I want you all to look at yourselves in the mirror and hear my voice saying : you did this to me.
You told me I was the problem. And I told you I was getting help, and I was trying to do my best.
And you called me lazy, ungrateful, mean, annoying, you told me I was the problem. But I already knew. You think I would want to kill myself if I didn't know that ?
