The Unbecoming of Catrina Grace Baker

Dear Reader

Dear reader,

My name is Catrina, Catrina Grace Baker, and this is the unbecoming of me. No, I don't mean "becoming", don't get it mixed up. This is my story and if you read this, I'm dead. No need to sugar-coat it; I'd be gone and you'd soon understand why. 

What people don't understand is that words affect people. You see, you can beat someone up with words. Your words are deadly- they can kill. Understand that, please. Your actions, your words, everything, can affect someone greatly. Don't take pride in being that asshole. What you do and say can drive a person to go into the deep end. Their snowball will keep rolling until it gets bigger and bigger and bigger and finally crushes them. It's in their heads, but that doesn't mean that it isn't real. If you think it's a cry for attention and that they should "get over it already", you are so disgusting. People die from sadness. People die because others don't pick up on the signs until it is too late. Thank God for ignorance, though. Without it, you wouldn't last a day. Ignorance is bliss.

When someone dies from a disease, they feel inclined to say, "Oh, they fought so hard". Although it's quite sad, no one ever says the same thing to a person who has committed suicide. They don't ever think that there isn't a fight involved. They seem to think that mental illnesses like depression is something you can just get over, that it's easy to overcome and to be happy again. 

I'm going to say this again: if you read this, I am dead. If you read this, you are not. Please don't die. Not tonight. Please don't give up. For me? I love you. Please don't. Stay strong. Do what I didn't.

Yours truly,
Catrina Grace Baker