The Dream

WARNING: This gets rather sad and graphic and there are suicidal thoughts involved in this story. If it makes you uncomfortable then I would advise you to not read it.

AN: Also I am open to constructive criticism. Thanks for reading! :33

You wake up in your bed, with words painted on the walls and ceiling in black. Many are too dark to see, but you notice that one says 'I'm sorry'. Another near it says 'Please forgive me'. The next says 'Don't leave'.... The more you look in the inky blackness of your dark room, the more of these lines you see scrawled everywhere.

Scared, you get out of bed and you see on the floor in front of you; a crumpled up list, a note, and what you assume is a small sketch. Observing the sketch reveals a drawing of a person, slowly getting more overwhelmed and seemingly guilty, until the last picture seen is of the person bawling and begging for forgiveness for unknown faults.

Next the list.... A paper on which you find many, many scribbled lines seen as such;

I'm annoying

I'm rude

I'm selfish

I have trust issues

I don't matter

I hold grudges

I'm anxious

I'm desperate

I'm a failure

I'm lazy

I'm ignorant

I'm a procrastinator

I'm unattractive

I'm awkward

I'm a fuck up

I'm stupid

I'm worthless

I'm dishonest

I'm worrisome

I show too much compassion then get hurt

I'm over attached

I hate myself

I'm not grateful enough

I'm not loyal enough

I complain too often

I'd be better off dead

You kneel on the floor and begin to cry. You begin to realize that these are all things you've done, and that you've created. This list and this sketch came from your own head. They were caused by your own emotions. You created these with your hands. All of the lines on the walls and ceiling were lines you traced when you felt unwanted. When you felt you had disappointed someone. Noticing the remaining paper, now dotted with tear stains, a pain grew in your chest. You began to cry harder, knowing you had to finish what you'd started.

The note stated;

To everyone I know,

I'm sorry... For everything. I know I'm a disappointment. I know it's hard to put up with me, and that I get in the way. I've taken this into account, and have decided that you shouldn't have to deal with me anymore. When you read this, I won't be here anymore, but I hope that everyone's lives will be easier with me gone. Now, to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being good enough, in any respect. I was never smart enough, or pretty enough, or happy enough for anyone. I'm sorry I wasn't there when I was needed, and there when no one wanted me. I'm sorry I was untalented and lazy. I'm sorry I complained and that I was dishonest. I swear I didn't mean to be. I'm sorry I was worthless. I'm sorry I couldn't last any longer. Now you don't have to worry though. No one has to worry... Now I'm gone and you don't have to deal with me and my flaws.. Now I'll be gone fore-

You stop there, but even then, you're sobbing and heaving heavily. You notice the writing had gotten shakier as the letter had been written. You had been crying when you wrote this... You had written this... These words were filled with pure guilt and sadness. Then you suddenly remember it. You remembered it all. The notes, the pictures, the lists, all of it. You remember all the thoughts of suicide on that one night. All of the hours spent wondering if anyone cared. You remember planning it and all of the ways you wanted to end it all. Your mangled body on the concrete after the fall from a building. You lying in a pool of your own blood on the bathroom floor after slitting your wrists. All of your clothes from your closet on the floor, with you in their place, hanging from a rope. You start to scream, the many images of your dead body engulfing your thoughts.

Then you awake in your real bed. Everything is the way you left it before drifting off to sleep, hours before. You're shaking and crying, breathing heavily, trying to convince yourself it was only a dream. The note, and the drawing, and the list sit soundly on your desk among many other papers and notebooks. After you take a while to calm yourself down, you go back to sleep, peacefully. The dream may be over, but the thoughts of it won't be.